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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23596807">Sunrise Sunset</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calliopes_Quill/pseuds/Calliopes_Quill'>Calliopes_Quill</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingfoxtopus/pseuds/flyingfoxtopus'>flyingfoxtopus</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sunrise Sunset [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>1940s!Bucky Barnes, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Captain America: The First Avenger, F/M, Fanart, Fluff, OC/OC - Freeform, Self-indulgent fluff, WW2, cuteness, disaster bi!oc, do not judge us, follows the plot of CA: TFA, mentions of blood and injury, nurse!oc, shameless flirting, soldier!oc, there are nurse characters so of course there's going to be medical stuff, trigger warning</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 00:15:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>48,751</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23596807</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calliopes_Quill/pseuds/Calliopes_Quill, https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingfoxtopus/pseuds/flyingfoxtopus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky Barnes never asked to be a soldier. All he wanted to do was survive this nightmare and get back to his real life in Brooklyn with his best friend, and forget any of this ever happened. When an injury lands him in the hands of one of the Nursing Sisters in their shared camp, the flirtation that followed was supposed to just be a distraction. But that bullet graze may just have been the best thing that's ever happened to him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sunrise Sunset [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1801909</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>103</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. February 9, 1943</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Okay, so this started as a joke between the two of us related to some images we found on Pinterest, and a quick self-indulgent scene suddenly snowballed into a full fic?</p>
<p>Of course, we do not own any of the canon Marvel characters. We are just playing in their world for a bit.</p>
<p>We love your comments. Tell us all your thoughts.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>.</p><p>Returning to camp was always its own controlled kind of chaos, one that Bucky was surprised to find himself becoming accustomed to. It wasn’t something he ever thought would happen when he shipped out from New York, and yet it seemed to be happening anyway. As he made his way over the trampled grass towards the field hospital, he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that.</p><p>This was a more sophisticated setup than he expected them to toss up in the Middle of Nowhere, Italy, but he supposed after the war twenty-five years ago, they’d learned a thing or two. Unfortunately not enough to prevent another from happening. The Great War. The War to End All Wars. </p><p>
<i>If only.</i>
</p><p>Or maybe it was just because the Canadians they shared the camp with had already been here for years before his county decided they couldn't turn a blind eye anymore. They had definitely left their mark on the layout. They'd commandeered most of the good flat ground for their barracks, and the Canadian Nursing Sisters ruled the infirmary with an iron fist, and baby blue dresses and wimples he found frankly adorable. The American nurses with their little hats and plain white just didn't have the same charm. </p><p>Bucky fully credited the charm of the Canadian nurses for the affection his company had for 'Moose Tracks', as the soldiers had nicknamed it. There was a story there, something about a prank the Canadians had played during the first month they had shared the camp. No one seemed to agree on the specifics.</p><p>He made his way past the pharmacy tent and the operating theatre, paused briefly to appreciate the scents wafting from the cook tent -- he would definitely be stopping there later -- and headed for the receiving tent. He wasn’t badly injured -- not to his mind -- but they needed a record of where he was in case someone came looking. </p><p>Nothing was broken, nor was he missing any body parts, so as he anticipated they sent him to the Minor Injuries ward. </p><p>And walked into the tent just in time to see one of the nurses nearly walk into one of the tent poles. </p><p>Bucky bit his lip, fighting back a laugh. And lost the battle entirely as another of the ward nurses made their way towards him, shaking her head.</p><p>“This kind of thing happen a lot?” He asked, nodding towards the young woman who’d almost clocked herself on the post. She was tall for a lady, certainly taller than the petite ward nurse in front of him, and decked out in one of the blue uniforms of the Canadian nursing sisters. Her hair was brown from what he could see, tucked up under a crisp white wimple. </p><p>The ward matron glanced back, then shook her head again with a small smile. “Dawn is a sweet one. Eager beaver, good with patients, but well… bit of a clodhopper at times.” She turned back to him. “You been seen to, shug?”</p><p>“No, ma’am.”</p><p>“Then why don’t you head on over, take bed twelve.” The matron pointed to the little numbers on the foot of each cot. “We’ll get you seen to in a jiff.”</p><p>Bucky smiled to himself and did as he was bid. Bed twelve, as it turned out, was right behind where Dawn was working. She must have been distracted because she didn’t even seem to hear him approach.</p><p>He stepped up behind her, battling a soft chuckle as he followed the path of her gaze. It was directed at a pretty blonde nurse who he recognised from a previous visit to the ward. “Was it Rosie bending over?”</p><p>The young woman jumped, nearly fumbling the armload of sheets she was carrying. “What?” Her voice came out in a startled squeak as she whirled on him, clutching the sheets to her chest. “What? No. No, of course not. Why would I be looking at Rosie?”</p><p>Cute, blonde, looked great in her uniform. Who wouldn’t want to look at Rosie? Although Miss Looky-loo wasn't too bad herself. Plus, she obviously had excellent taste. “I like you,” Bucky decided. “You’re my favourite nurse now.”</p><p>If possible, her already flaming face burned even darker. “Um… thank you?” She cleared her throat, brushed an errant lock of light brown hair behind one ear. “So, um… do you need something or were you just here to see if you could make a poor innocent girl -- who was totally not watching any pretty blonde nurses bend over, by the way -- drop things?”</p><p>He smiled at her, looking a little sheepish himself. “See, the thing is -- and it might not even be worth bringing up -- I may have gotten myself just the tiniest bit shot.” As he spoke, he pulled his shirt from the waistband of his trousers, revealing a glimpse of perfect abs and blood-smeared skin. “More like grazed? Really, if you could just lend me some gauze or something, I’ll be fine.”</p><p>“Nh -- what -- oh my god!” The colour that had risen in her face drained immediately. “Oh my god.”</p><p>His amusement over her reaction swiftly turned to concern when he saw her sway on her feet. “Woah, easy there, doll. Let’s sit you down for a second.”</p><p>Dawn took a step back, shaking her head to clear it. After two years on the front, you’d think she would be used to seeing this kind of injuries. Her bad luck that she never had gotten used to the sight of blood and pain. “No. No. Absolutely not. I’m the nurse. You’ve been shot. You sit here, I’m going to clean you up, and I will have my tizzy later.” She sat him down on the cot before striding purposefully to divest herself of the sheets she had been carrying and gather the supplies she needed.</p><p>She returned a moment later, carrying a tray laden with gauze, a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, and other necessary pieces. She set the tray down on the small bedside table before turning purposefully towards him. “Okay, soldier. Off with the shirt. Let’s get you patched up.”</p><p>He complied, not exactly opposed to the way her eyes flicked over his chest with each undone button. </p><p>Forcing her mind back to business, Dawn told him to sit back so she could get a better look at the wound. His initial assessment, it seemed, had been mostly correct. It was a graze. But it was a bad one. “Looks like you got lucky,” she commented. “Few more millimetres and you’d be needing more than just a couple stitches.”</p><p>“James.”</p><p>“Pardon?”</p><p>“My name. It’s James. Friends call me Bucky.”</p><p>She glanced up at him briefly as she prepared a cloth to clean his wound. “You move fast. We’ve only known each other about five minutes.”</p><p>“And in that time, you’ve managed to get me out of my shirt. I think that makes us friends.”</p><p>Dawn chuckled. “Charmer. See if you’re feeling so friendly after I clean this out.” She passed him a worn strap of leather. “Just in case. This is going to hurt.”</p><p>“Not my first time, doll,” he assured her. “I can take it.”</p><p>“If you say so, hun.” And was not surprised at the curse he bit out as she laid the peroxide-soaked cloth over the bullet graze. “Deep breaths.”</p><p>“You know -- I think the cleaning hurts worse than actually being shot,” he commented through gritted teeth. </p><p>“I’ll take your word for it. But better than losing a nice boy like you to a nasty infection.” Satisfied that the wound was as clean as she could make it, Dawn set down the cloth and picked up the needle and thread. “This part’s not going to be any more fun.”</p><p>“Wouldn’t mind a distraction, if you’re offering.”</p><p>“Now that depends on what kind of distraction you’re looking for,” she replied. “You mentioned Rosie earlier. If you’re here fishing, you’re not the first to try for her.”</p><p>“Rosie’s sweet,” Bucky agreed. “We’ve shared a drink a time or two. But if I was fishing, I don’t think I’m using the right bait.”</p><p>Unsure of how to respond to that, Dawn elected to stay silent as she prepared the needle.  “Ready?”</p><p>He nodded. “About that distraction -- how’d someone like you end up in a place like this?”</p><p>“Well you see, this nasty group of people that call themselves Nazis took power in Germany and started killing civilians and invading other countries -- “</p><p>"No shit, doll. I hadn't noticed."</p><p>"Language, Sergeant. There are ladies present. You might scare them away.”</p><p>That startled a laugh out of him. “You must be new. I’ve learned more about how to cuss from the girls here than I did in basic.”</p><p>That didn’t surprise her. In the time she’d been in Italy, she’d gained a thorough education in the various creative methods in which curse words could be strung together. </p><p>"And I think my language is perfectly acceptable for when someone is stabbing me repeatedly." Bucky said, glaring at the waiting needle.</p><p>Dawn smiled, and relaxed a little more."I haven't even started the stabbing yet. And I brought the strap if you needed something to bite down on."</p><p>"For a little scratch like this?" Bucky flexed, immediately regretting the decision, as it sent a shooting pain up his side. </p><p>Dawn rolled her eyes. Fragile masculine pride would be the death of one of them. "Open your mouth."</p><p>Bucky plucked the strap out of her fingers and waved it at her playfully. He wasn’t going to blow a solid flirting session over a little thing like excruciating pain. "Buy me dinner first."</p><p>Her cheeks heated again, but she met his gaze evenly this time. “I’m sure we can get some good recommendations for Italian somewhere near here.”</p><p>He laughed again. “That was terrible. I love it. Maybe afterwards we’ll go out dancing.”</p><p>“If you can keep up,” She teased. There wouldn’t be dancing. There was never actually dancing.</p><p>"And you said I move fast. I like a girl who knows what she wants." He winked. Girls always liked it when he winked.</p><p>“And I like a man who knows how to follow orders. Now stay still.” She said firmly, hand steady as she set to work stitching the wound.</p><p>Bucky hissed, gritting his teeth, and directing his gaze up to the top of the tent. Maybe he should have used the strap after all. “Fuck. Ah -- Girl after my own heart.”</p><p>As long as he didn’t find out she was all talk. He wasn’t the first GI to respond to pain with flirtation. It never meant anything, and if it kept their mind off their injuries, she didn’t mind playing the game. But she’d have enjoyed it more in different circumstances. </p><p>“Really, though.” Bucky was talking to keep himself distracted now, it was only kind of working. “You’re more -- sensitive -- than most of the other girls here.”</p><p>“Sensitive,” she chuckled. “Yeah, you could say that. I’ll tell you, being on the front was not my first choice. War broke out. Dad enlisted.” Would have been forced to, she thought, if he hadn’t chosen himself. And wondered not for the first time how much of his decision to go had been based on his wife’s urgings. “Mama and Willa stayed back home, teaching. I applied to work at one of the rehab hospitals in Quebec. Next thing I know, I’m on a flight to Italy, and all that French I was studying is not as useful as I hoped it was going to be.” </p><p>He knew what to say to that at least, and digging up the right phrase from his mind required enough concentration to get him through another two stitches. "<i>L'italiano non è poi così diverso.</i>"</p><p>Dawn looked up at him in surprise. None of the GIs had done that before. "You speak Italian?"</p><p>He shrugged, another bad idea according to his side. "Enough to order dinner and talk my way out of a fight. Brooklyn's like that."</p><p>She turned her attention back to her work, and determinedly away from those glittering eyes. "Then I'll let you order dinner. The amount of Italian I've learned here could only get us banned from every decent restaurant in the country."</p><p>"I don't know if that's a comment on your accent or the quality of your teachers."</p><p>"Considering most of the Italian I learned here I was introduced to when people were getting stitches or having bullets dug out of them, I'll let you come to your own conclusions."</p><p>"And how many of them have talked you into dinner?" Bucky didn't mind a little competition, but he wanted to know what he was up against. There was sure to be a line of suitors for a girl like her.</p><p>That had actually followed through? "Well there's one that's making some decent progress. Long as he's not a dead hooper, he may be a keeper."</p><p>So, she liked to dance. He could work with that. "Pretty blonde? You feel like the type that would go for pretty blondes. If it's Hodge, you should drop him. Guys a heel. You can do better."</p><p>Dawn's face screwed up in disgust. "Ugh. That pig. Definitely not. I prefer a partner with more than two brain cells to rub together, whose every word doesn't inspire me to deck him. No. I do like a pretty blonde, but right now I'm leaning towards pretty brunettes with eyes like the sky at midsummer."</p><p>Stitching done, she knotted and snipped the thread, laying the needle and scissors back on their tray.  </p><p>"Hell, she's a poet too. Someone get me out of here before I embarrass myself even more." Bucky grinned and leaned forward, elbows on knees. The pain in his side was worth it just for this conversation.</p><p>Dawn laughed. “You haven’t walked into a tent pole yet, so I’d say you’re safe for now.” She gave the wound a final wipe-down before reaching for the roll of fresh bandages to cover it. </p><p>Bucky was pretty sure she spent more time looking at his muscles than she needed too as she applied the dressing. Not that he minded. Especially since she blushed so attractively when he caught her.</p><p>Finally, she tucked under the end of the bandage and stepped back to appraise her work. And maybe get a better look at the rest of him. She was only human.</p><p>Bucky smirked. She was definitely getting an eyeful. "Can I put my shirt back on now?"</p><p>Dawn cleared her throat. He'd caught her. "For purely professional reasons, I'm going to say ‘no’."</p><p>"Purely professional, huh?" Bucky waggled his eyebrows suggestively.</p><p>"Go get a clean shirt that isn't going to contaminate your bandages." Damn, wasn’t that smile deadlier than anything on the battlefield. Dawn wasn’t one to look for trouble, but Bucky was the kind of trouble she wouldn’t mind at all getting wrapped up in.</p><p>Ginny was not going to approve.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. March 10, 1940 & February 13, 1943</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">March 10, 1940</span>
  </b>
</p>
<p>Meeting Ginny had been a blessing. There had been an orientation meeting at the university for those nurses who were to be sent overseas. Dawn was not supposed to be there. She had applied to work at one of the convalescing hospitals in Quebec, but somehow her application had been misfiled and they determined she was to be a field nurse on the front instead. She was petrified, her mother borderline hysterical, but knew this was not something that she could back out of. So, there she was, sitting in a lecture theatre, twenty minutes early, armed with a notepad and a pencil, shaking in her shoes. </p>
<p>This was not an unfamiliar room to her. One of her first-year English lectures had been held in this very space. How young she’d been then, how self-assured. She had wanted to be a writer, had  even been lucky enough that her family had the money for her to go to school and earn her degree. And maybe she had not come out of her schooling with an MRS, as her mother had hoped, but with a broader knowledge and more analytical mind and an even deeper love of literature than ever before.</p>
<p>She’d spent the year since then in secretarial jobs, which she’d taken to easily. Perhaps not as creatively fulfilling a career as she’d hoped, but with the economy what it was, she was grateful for the position. </p>
<p>And then the war had broken out. </p>
<p>She hadn't been the only one early for the lecture. There was another girl already there. Leaning casually against the front desks and chatting with a man Dawn assumed to be the lecturer. Not just some army clerk like the man who had fumbled Dawn's paperwork so badly, a doctor in a crisp white lab coat. She thought that might be something to soothe her mother's anxieties. She might be going somewhere where she could die any minute, but there would still be eligible young men around. </p>
<p>The other girl seemed to already know the doctor. They were both very much at their ease, talking about what kind of suturing material would be available. Dawn wasn't trying to eavesdrop on the conversation. It was just a very quiet room. Dawn had no idea what suturing material even was. Let alone why it was a big deal that there would be limited gages available. She assumed it was a kind of thread? Or perhaps a kind of wire, which was the only other thing she’d heard of that came in gages. But thread made significantly more sense. </p>
<p>Dawn opened her notebook, flipped to a fresh page, and wrote ‘<i>Gages? Sutures?</i>’ near the top of the page. </p>
<p>At least she knew how to sew. She was a pretty dab hand with a needle, but at this moment absolutely refused to contemplate the difference between stitching a dress and sewing human tissue. </p>
<p>Other women started filing into the room. The lecturer patted his companion's arm and nodded towards the desks.</p>
<p>The girl dropped into the seat next to Dawn. There was a moment where Dawn felt like she was being inspected before the woman held out a hand in introduction. "Ginevra Whitman."</p>
<p>"Dawn Danielsen?” So unsure was she that her own name came out as a question. “It sounds like you know what you're doing."</p>
<p>Ginevra tossed her hair proudly. "I ought to. I'm going to be a doctor. I deferred medical school for this."</p>
<p>Dawn was impressed, not just that this young woman was deferring medical school to go to the front, but that she was going to be a doctor, period. Dawn was no dud, and in fact considered herself to be pretty clever, her grades at college proved that much, but was instantly intellectually intimidated by the woman in front of her. </p>
<p>Intimidated in a lot of ways really. Ginevra was smart, and pretty, and determined to go to the one place Dawn was terrified off. "You could go anywhere, why go to the front?"</p>
<p>Ginevra shrugged and set a notebook on her desk. When she flipped through to find a blank page, Dawn caught glimpses of diagrams and drawings of anatomy and what she thought might be molecular structures. "I want to be a surgeon. I go to one of the military hospitals, even one of the ones in England, I get stuck changing bandages and wiping noses."</p>
<p>That honestly didn't sound too bad to Dawn.</p>
<p>"If I go to the front, I can get real time in a theatre.” Ginevra leaned forward over her notebook, eyes almost shining with determination. “After all this is over, I'll have more time than most of the men in my class. It will be harder for them to deny me a good residency. I might just be able to escape the drudgery of general practice." </p>
<p>From the set of the woman's jaw, Dawn assumed she had put a lot of thought into this. She had probably followed up on her paperwork instead of trusting it would be alright. Still it wasn't the 'we have to take care of our boys' or 'we have to do all we can in these dark times' Dawn had expected. It didn't bear any resemblance to the poster slogans the other volunteers Dawn had talked to spouted."Oh, that's…"</p>
<p>"Terribly noble of me. I know." Ginevra winked and crossed her ankles delicately, showing a sense of humour to match that sense of entitlement. "What about you? Doing your patriotic duty? Trying to run away, but discovered that the circus is actually surprisingly picky?"</p>
<p>"Something in the middle? I want to help, but the idea of the front kind of scares me." That was an understatement. She was scared stiff. She was going to do it though. She was tired  of reading about exciting things and never doing anything exciting herself. The universe had spoken. She was going on an adventure. A definitely uncomfortable, possibly lethal adventure. <i>In for a penny…</i></p>
<p>"You stick with me, honey.” The other woman reached over and patted her knee. “We'll get through this. And call me Ginny. Ginevra is my grandmother."</p>
<p>★</p>
<p>Two hours later and slightly shell shocked, Dawn emerged into the sunlight. There was so much nurses were expected to do, and she didn't know how to do any of it.</p>
<p>Ginny patted her on the shoulder. "It is going to be alright. You're smart and tougher than you think. You can do this."</p>
<p>"Did you want to get tea?” Dawn offered. “You can talk me through proper hand washing again."</p>
<p>"I would, but I have a prior engagement at the train station I really can't miss." Ginny replied, distracted.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A young GI waited on the sidewalk, a bicycle with a duffle bag strapped to the back leaning against his side. Ginny bounded over to him and threw her arms around his neck. He hugged her back hard, pressing his face into her neck.</p>
<p>Dawn felt a pang of sympathetic heartbreak as she watched her new friend ride away on the bike's handlebars. She wasn't jealous of that kind of engagement. It was hard enough having to say goodbye to her father. Saying goodbye to a beau… she couldn’t imagine. </p>
<p>★</p>
<p>The thought haunted her as she made her way to the university bookstore. Not for the first time she was struck by the terrible waste of it all. All the lives lost, all the families torn apart, all the heartbreak, and for what? She’d read of some of the atrocities committed by the Nazi regime and simply could not fathom how anyone could do these things to another person. </p>
<p>The bookstore itself was near empty, so different from the hub that it had been when she was in school. Dawn made her way through the stacks to the shelf of medical textbooks, mentally reviewing her limited funds. Though her initial hope would be to buy a copy of everything, she knew that was unrealistic. She hadn’t taken biology when she was in school, so started with a copy of Grey’s Anatomy, supplemented with the Red Cross First Aid Textbook, and found herself glancing between The Principles and Practice of Nursing, and The Textbook of Surgery for Nurses. It was more than she wanted to spend, but she found one used at a good price, and so bought all four, intending to begin her studies the moment she returned home. </p>
<p>★</p>
<p>Ginny's eyes were red and puffy for the second day of orientation. Dawn sat protectively close, spare handkerchiefs at the ready should they be needed. On one day’s acquaintance she didn’t feel she had the right to say anything but tried to be there in case Ginny needed someone to talk to. And prayed that her man would be okay.</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">February 13, 1943</span>
  </b>
</p>
<p>"He's sweet." Dawn protested. She didn't think she was winning this argument. Ginny had been ready for battle ever since the note asking if she was going to the dance tonight had arrived. Dawn hadn't even written back. Although the note had specifically said she didn't have to, so maybe that wasn't entirely reassuring. </p>
<p>
  <i>You don't have to write back. I'm not looking for any promises. Seeing you tonight, even from afar, will make me feel like there is good in the world. </i>
</p>
<p>Dawn had tucked the note into her journal. Men didn't write her love notes. Certainly not beautiful ones.</p>
<p>"He's trouble." Ginny reminded her as she pulled off her wimple.</p>
<p>"Come on. Not all of us can be happily and adorably married." It was sweet to see, even if it hurt sometimes. Happy as she was to see her friend happy, the latest letter from her mama urging her to find herself a nice man was weighing on her. </p>
<p>"Shhh!” Ginny hissed. “You want to get me packed off to some boring hospital somewhere?"</p>
<p>"Of course not. Who'd I talk to if you left? Minnie? She's such a dud. And I'd have Sally buried under the floorboards if I had to spend any more time in her company." Dawn would be devastated if she lost her best friend. Married women weren't supposed to be stationed on the front. If anyone found out about Ginny's elopement she wouldn't be allowed to stay.</p>
<p>"And you <i>can't</i> talk to Rosie." Ginny teased, nudging her friend’s side. She wasn't one for holding grudges.</p>
<p>Dawn decided it was much better for her dignity if she ignored that statement entirely. "... are you going to help me with my hair or not?"</p>
<p>Her friend sighed, a fond, exasperated sound. "Pass me the pins.”</p>
<p>★</p>
<p>"Right. That's as good as you get without an actual hairdresser." Ginny stepped back, giving the soft french twist a last once-over.</p>
<p>Dawn checked her reflection in her hand mirror. "Ginny, you're a miracle worker. A goddess among women."</p>
<p>Ginny leaned over her shoulder, primping her own hair in the small mirror. "It's pretty darn good, hun. Your coffee ration says he's speechless."</p>
<p>Dawn laughed. "Consider it yours." It would be worth it.</p>
<p>	She stood from her stool, brushing her hands over the skirt of her pink button-down dress. It was the one pretty outfit she’d managed to bring with her, and she’d done her best to keep it in good condition. At this point it had lived so long in her cubby that the hardest thing to do was get the wrinkles out of it. </p>
<p>The black ankle-strap heels had carried her through many a dance and family wedding, but they were well broken-in and had been kept in reasonable condition. Slipping them on was a kind of comfort, a reminder of home on the other side of the world. Dawn had made good memories in these shoes. She was hoping to make a few more tonight.</p>
<p>	★</p>
<p>	The atmosphere at the church hall was lively, lights gleaming from the doorway as party-goers filtered in and out of the building. Strains of “Anywhere the Bluebird Goes” were just audible as they approached, Dawn in her pink dress with the lace accents at the sleeves, and Ginny in her blue with the sweetly pleated neckline.</p>
<p>	The place was hoppin’ when they got inside. Couples filled the dance floor or clustered at the low tables stationed around the building. A number were lined up at the bar that had been set up. This was a dry event -- most were -- but that hardly mattered. The brief hours of respite were often intoxicating enough.</p>
<p>	Already they had spotted a few people they knew; some fellow nurses from the field hospital, as well as some of the soldiers they had treated. </p>
<p>	 Dawn could see her friend’s eyes skimming over the crowd, searching. Dawn knew exactly what she was looking for and pulled her deeper into the hall for a better search.</p>
<p>	They’d managed one circuit of the hall and were contemplating grabbing some drinks when a pair of arms wrapped around Ginny’s shoulders and a soft voice asked in her ear, “Hey sugar, you rationed?”</p>
<p>	Not even a blackout could have concealed the look of sheer delight on Ginny’s face as she leaned back into the solid frame of her husband’s chest. “You know, I am. But what he don’t know won’t hurt him.”</p>
<p>	Dawn smiled as she saw her friends cuddling up to each other. The pair of them were just too damn sweet. It was a treat just to watch them.</p>
<p>	And they were so caught up with each other that for a moment they seemed to forget Dawn was even there. </p>
<p>	Not that she minded.</p>
<p>	But Ginny turned back to her, hand clasped with Jack’s. "You don't have to hang around with us boring people. Go find your Romeo."</p>
<p>	Jack’s eyes lit with interest as he glanced between them. "Romeo? Who is Dawn's Romeo?"</p>
<p>“Sergeant Barnes."</p>
<p>"With the 107?"</p>
<p>Ginny nodded in confirmation. "And the dreamy eyes apparently."</p>
<p>"Oh yeah. He's a Romeo. A Yankee Romeo to boot." Jack agreed. He’d met the man a few times. Nice fella. Easy to talk to. Kind of guy you’d want to grab a drink with. But he’d also seen that Barnes was the type to attract female attention as effortlessly as wildflowers attracted honeybees.</p>
<p>"Would you stop calling him that?” Dawn protested with a laugh. “He's sweet."</p>
<p>"So was Romeo,” Ginny reminded her. “Doesn't mean this isn't going to end with fourteen deaths in less than three days."</p>
<p>"Romeo was a doll dizzy boy with a crush. Pretty sure the same cannot be said of Sergeant Barnes. But if you're warning me he's on active duty, I will keep that in mind if I ever see those baby blues again." She’d keep it at casual flirtation and that would be that.</p>
<p>Of course it would be just her luck for a familiar voice to cut in. "Whose baby blues are we talking about? And why is lieutenant Simard hogging all the pretty girls? You can only dance with one of them at a time, you know."</p>
<p>They turned to find the figure of James Barnes approaching from behind them. He looked even better when he wasn’t covered in battlefield grime. His hair was neatly combed, his uniform pressed, face clean-shaven. </p>
<p>Dawn, who’d thought he was handsome even with the rough edge of stubble, tried very hard not to stare. <i>Now that’s just unfair.</i></p>
<p>"Too bad you're late, Barnes. Missed your chance." Jack joked back easily, slinging one arm casually around his wife’s shoulders.</p>
<p>He snapped his fingers in mock-disappointment. “Well dang. And here I spent all that time making myself presentable. I don’t suppose Sister Dawn will take pity on a guy if he asks for a dance? Or are you holding her hostage too?”</p>
<p>“Go,” Ginny urged with a laugh, pushing Dawn forward before she could say anything. “But we are leaving in three hours and I am walking you back to our barracks myself."</p>
<p>Dawn made a face at her friend. "You know one of the few benefits of being posted all the way out here is not having to deal with my mother."</p>
<p>"Amen to that," Jack nodded emphatically. </p>
<p>He and Dawn exchanged a look of sympathy as Ginny giggled, tugging her husband towards the dance floor. “Come on, sugar. Let’s dance.”</p>
<p>Bucky let out a long whistle as he watched the two of them walk away. "Anyone taking bets on how long it will be before those two get married?"</p>
<p>Dawn laughed. "That was about a year ago so you'd lose your money."</p>
<p>"What?"</p>
<p>Oops, she wasn’t supposed to say that. Open secrets were the worst. "What?"</p>
<p>Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. "You're an odd duck. Let's dance."</p>
<p>"Oh, I don't know, Sergeant Barnes. You think you can keep up?" She took his proffered hand with a smile she hoped covered her nerves. Her dancing partners weren’t normally this gallant.</p>
<p>Bucky twirled her on the spot. “Oh, I think I’m up to the challenge.”</p>
<p>“As long as you take care with your stitches,” she relented, allowing him to lead her towards the crowd of dancers. </p>
<p>“Yes ma’am,” he promised. “You can even check them yourself later.”</p>
<p>★</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>	James Barnes, it turned out, really knew how to cut a rug. He led like a pro, and not once did he step on her toes or fling her into another dancer. And to top it all off, he even knew how to hold a conversation on the dance floor, if the song was slow enough.</p>
<p>	Dawn had known he was charming, but he was also funny, disarmingly so. He told her about growing up in Brooklyn, running tame through the streets with his best friend, and didn’t shy away from stories that made him look silly. In return she told him about her family, her parents and sister, and how she came to know Ginny and Jack.</p>
<p>	Far too soon Dawn felt a tap on her shoulder. There was Ginny, face as flushed with exertion as hers was.  "Come on, Cinderella. Time to get you into your bed before you turn into a pumpkin."</p>
<p>Already the words of protest were forming on her lips. "Ginny -- "</p>
<p>Her friend cut her off with an airy wave of a hand, before she could finish her objection. "If you want to explain to matron why you're yawning through morning rounds, be my guest."</p>
<p>Dawn sighed, turning back to Bucky reluctantly. "She has a point. I should go."</p>
<p>He nodded, understanding. "Let me walk you back."</p>
<p>"You don't have to." Dawn protested. There were other women watching Barnes. Pretty much all the girls that were unattached, and a fair number of the ones with sweethearts too. He would have a new dance partner in the blink of an eye after she left. No mean feat considering the women were outnumbered three to one. “Ginny and I can get home fine.”</p>
<p>But Bucky shook his head, smiling crookedly down at her. "Ma would box my ears if I didn't. She raised a gentleman."</p>
<p>Dawn laughed, relenting. She rather liked the idea that he wanted to walk her home.  “Well we wouldn’t want your Ma to be disappointed in you.”</p>
<p>★</p>
<p>He kept them laughing all the way back to the nurses’ quarters, trading quips with Jack and casual words of flirtation with Dawn. </p>
<p>When they reached the barracks, they stepped away, giving Ginny and Jack a moment of privacy to kiss briefly in the shadows of the dorm before Ginny disappeared inside.</p>
<p>Bucky ran his knuckles down her arm. "Can I kiss you goodnight, Sister Dawn?"</p>
<p>At that moment Ginny stuck her head out from the door to the tent. "No."</p>
<p>“Ginny!” Dawn laughed. “Get back inside! I can answer for myself.” </p>
<p>She turned back to her dance partner, shaking her head regretfully. She wasn’t the kind of girl who kissed a guy on the first date, if you could even call this that. "I should get to bed. Hopefully I won't see you around, Sergeant."</p>
<p>"Hopefully you will,” He replied. “Just not because I got myself shot again."</p>
<p>"Just a little shot." She smiled back, echoing his own words from that afternoon.</p>
<p>He chuckled. "Good night, Dawn." He reached out to take her hand, bringing it slowly to his mouth to brush soft lips over her knuckles. "Sweet dreams."</p>
<p>"Sweet dreams, Sergeant Barnes." Face burning, trying to keep the grin from her face, Dawn retreated into the barracks. She closed the flap of the tent behind her and turned to lean against the frame, a dreamy look in her eyes, absently holding the hand he had kissed.</p>
<p>A wet cloth caught her square in the face. </p>
<p>"Wipe that grin off your face and get to bed. That boy is trouble."</p>
<p>Dawn made a face at her, using the damp cloth to swipe off her makeup in an effort to avoid raccoon eyes in the morning. "Oh, how would you know what trouble looks like?"</p>
<p>"Jack's not the first man in my life,” Ginny said with a shrug as she made her way to her bed. “I've seen trouble before. And Barnes is trouble."</p>
<p>"Not the first man?” Dawn stepped back with an exaggerated gasp, pressing one hand to her chest in feigned shock. “Why, Ginevra Simard. Do you have a dark and wicked past you haven't told me about? And if so, tell me all about it.”</p>
<p>"Bed,” Her friend laughed, plucking the pins from her curls. “Before you get us both into trouble, you hopeless romantic."</p>
<p>"I'm not about to forget about this conversation,” Dawn warned her. “You are going to tell me eventually."</p>
<p>"Eventually, probably. Tonight, I'm going to sleep."</p>
<p>Dawn dropped onto her bed to unbuckle her shoes, sighing as her feet were finally freed. She'd be paying for the indulgence in the morning, but tonight was well worth the price she'd pay. Still smiling, she unbuttoned her dress, trading it for her pajamas, and returning the dress neatly folded to her locker. "Thanks for coming with me tonight, Ginny."</p>
<p>“Any time.” Ginny grumbled sleepily pulling her blanket over her head.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. March 15- May 8. 1943</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">March 15, 1943</span>
  </b>
</p><p>Things were calm in camp. Which meant Doctor Jones was trying to catch up on non-essential surgeries. Non-essential surgeries meant a ton of washing up. It was starting to get to Dawn. This could be the fifth dish she had disinfected, or it could be the fiftieth.</p><p>Ginny lifted the metal bowl out of her hands. "Go get lunch. I can finish cleaning this up."</p><p>"Ginny no." Dawn reached to take the bowl back. "You've been on your feet since dawn. You should take a break."</p><p>Ginny shook her head. "Jack's squad is out on maneuvers. I can't eat and I can't sit still. I can scrub an instrument tray to within an inch of its life. Go. Maybe flirt with one of the off-duty boys. Kiss someone you have no intention of marrying. You're only young once after all."</p><p>"First of all. We're the same age. Stop acting like you're 100. Second. I don't go around kissing people I don't see a future with. It isn't proper."</p><p>"Now you sound like your mother." Ginny snorted.</p><p>"Oh god, no,” Dawn made a disgusted face and shook her head. She loved her mother, of course she did, but she was definitely not the person Dawn had wanted to grow up to be. “Kiss someone you said?"</p><p>"That was my initial suggestion. Although I'm sure she would be just as scandalized if you let them carry your lunch without intending to marry them."</p><p>"The worst part is she would be." Dawn squeezed Ginny around the shoulders. "I'll bring you back a sandwich. Starving yourself won't help anyone."</p><p>★</p><p>It had been a month since Bucky had danced with the pretty nurse with the sunlight smile. He hadn't managed to talk to her the day he got his stitches out. Or the time some klutz dropped an ammunition canister on his foot. The canister hadn't broken anything but his CO insisted he got it checked out by medical. In fact, in the entire month he had barely been able to smile at her four times. Girl like that, in a place with this much competition, if you didn't follow up someone else would. He wasn't about to miss another chance to make her smile at him. "Sister Dawn!" </p><p>Dawn hoped the squeaking noise she made wasn't audible to anyone else. "Sergeant Barnes. You're waiting around for me now?"</p><p>"No. I mean, yeah, but not in a creepy way." Bucky jogged up next to her, hands shoved into jacket pockets. "Slap me if I'm reading this wrong. I didn't think you'd mind.</p><p>"I'll keep that option in my back pocket." Dawn tried not to smile too wide at the idea he was waiting for her.</p><p>"I got you something."</p><p>"A present? For me?" Dawn batted her eyes playfully. Bucky didn't need to know exactly how much the idea made her heart flutter. She was a sucker for a present.</p><p>Bucky pulled a shiny red apple out of his pocket. Tossing it into the air before catching it neatly and offering it to her. Flirting with the few girls around the camp was the best part of his day, and the pretty nurse was his favorite. Especially since he was about 90% sure he had caught her watching the blonde nurse more than once. </p><p>Dawn accepted the apple, bemused. She had expected chocolate, or one of the other trinkets GI’s thought made all the girls go crazy. "Thanks, I love… fruit."</p><p>"That's not just any fruit." Bucky beamed, turning on the full force of his smile. "That right there is a premium apple. Intact skin. No soft spots. Crisp and sweet. That's the kind of apple grown men fight for."</p><p>Dawn’s face fell. Fighting in the camp was trouble for everyone, but especially for medical. "Tell me you didn't get in a fight to get me an apple."</p><p>"Nah.” Bucky ran a hand over the short fluff of his hair. “Traded two cigarettes for it."</p><p>A high price indeed. “Well then, perhaps you’d like to share it with me?” And wasn’t it appropriate for her greatest temptation to present her with such a thing. Her lips curved in a smile at the thought. </p><p>Bucky flipped a knife into his hand. "You're too good to me, doll."</p><p>"Oh." Dawn jumped back in surprise. She hadn't been expecting that.</p><p>Bucky held up his hands apologetically. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."</p><p>Dawn took the knife from him. He hadn't been trying to intimidate her, and he was obviously contrite. No reason to waste a sweet gesture. "I'll cut."</p><p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">May 8, 1943</span></b></p><p>Nurses and other female camp staff had their own table in the mess tent. One the senior officer and head nurses were viciously protective of. Dawn had the seat at the end for breakfast today. She had mixed feelings about the spot. You got more leg room on the end, but you also ended up next to a table full of soldiers, which sometimes led to fun flirting, and sometimes led to dumping your glass of water over a too-pushy suitor’s head.</p><p>"How's my favourite nurse this beautiful morning?"
</p><p>
Dawn looked up at the welcome voice. Bucky had been missing for the better part of a week. Out with his company, she assumed, but it didn't do to ask too many questions. Loose lips and all that. "You know it's raining right?"
</p><p>
Bucky grinned and slipped a slightly battered wildflower onto her breakfast tray. "Yeah, but I slept in a cot with clean blankets and I get to eat breakfast next to a pretty girl."
</p><p>
Dawn picked up the butter yellow daisy and waved it at him. "You sir, are an incorrigible flirt."
</p><p>
 "So, they tell me." 
</p><p>
  "Who's they?" Dawn was pretty sure her heart had stopped. <i>Who gave him the right to such long eyelashes?</i>
</p><p>
"The guys who are jealous that you let me flirt with you. They don't use five-dollars words like <i>‘incorrigible’</i> though."
</p><p>
 Dawn grinned back at him. “You make me regret not packing my thesaurus,” she joked. “I could lend it to them. See if we can make our way up to ten-dollar words.”
</p><p>
"Nah, I don't think most of those meat heads could pull off being <i>loquacious</i> even with a book. Pretty sure most of ‘em can't even read. Better stick with me if you're looking for good conversation."
</p><p>
"I think you might be selling them short."
</p><p>
Bucky leaned closer across the gap between the tables. "I may be biased."
</p><p>
"Sergeant Barnes!" One of the officers barked. "No fraternising."
</p><p>
Dawn sighed. Of course, today would be the day they were paying attention.
</p><p>
"To be continued." Bucky winked and straightened back up.
</p><p>
★
</p><p>Dawn sat on her footlocker, notebook resting in her lap. She turned the flower Bucky had given her between her fingers. It was a silly thing to keep. She wasn't a child anymore, clinging to every trinket a suitor gave her. She wanted to keep it though. The bright yellow colour made her happy.
</p><p>"What's with the flower?" Minnie asked, securing her cap. She was off to cover the night shift. There were really only a few minutes every day where all the girls were in the tent at the same time. Even now Rosie was gone,off showering off the day.
</p><p>Dawn blushed and smoothed the stem into place against a page. "Bucky gave it to me."
</p><p>"Dawn's got a boyfriend!" Sally sing-songed, dancing around the narrow aisle running down the center of the tent.
</p><p>Ginny sighed and sat down heavily on her own cot. "I don't know if this is going to encourage you, but your mother would approve."
</p><p>"She really would." He was handsome, charming, clever, and brave. Her mother would be over the moon. If Dawn asked Bucky to stay for dinner, her mother would ask him to stay forever, and would be fitting Dawn for a wedding dress within the night. Dawn closed the book, trapping the flower between the pages of the journal. “But I can’t even…. I can’t afford to think about that right now. We’re in the middle of a war. We live in this crazy whirlpool of uncertainty and -- who knows what might happen tomorrow."
</p><p>Ginny reached across the space between their cots to squeeze Dawn's knee. "Oh sugar. I know I'm a little biased on the matter, but sometimes not knowing what is going to happen tomorrow is exactly why you should do the crazy thing."
</p><p>“And what about after the war?” Dawn asked, voicing the fear that had been rattling around inside of her for the last several weeks. “When everything calms down and everyone goes back to their lives. Just because he’s having fun flirting with me now doesn’t mean he’s looking for forever. Forever means a different thing when there’s the actual potential to have it.”
</p><p>"I don't remember ever saying ‘marry him’."
</p><p>"Ginny!" Dawn let out a startled laugh. Was her friend actually implying what she thought she was implying?
</p><p>"What? You're both adults. You can make your own decisions. Worst case scenario, you come live with me. I'm going to need a receptionist. And no one is going to look twice at a war widow after this. Especially one with respectable patrons like my family."
</p><p>Dawn shook her head. "I can not believe you are even suggesting this."
</p><p>Ginny looked at her seriously. "Well I guess we know what you have to do then."
</p><p>"Oh? And what's that exactly?"
</p><p>"Stop flirting with trouble," Ginny answered emphatically. 
</p><p>Dawn blinked, stared. "Oh my god, did you just reverse psychology me?"
</p><p>Ginny smiled enigmatically. "Would I do that?"
</p><p>“Yes. Absolutely you would, yes.” Dawn sighed, shaking her head. “It’s just some innocent flirting. It’s not going to go anywhere. I’m not going to get myself in any trouble.” She was too sensible for that, she thought with a small frown. Slow, sensible, utterly repressed Dawn, who’d never even kissed a boy until she was sixteen. Whose biggest risk she ever took was a decision made as a result of someone else’s filing error. 
</p><p>But she could dream for a moment, couldn’t she? Of what life could be once the war was over. She’d go back home to Canada with Ginny and Jack. And there would be an address written in the back of her notebook. They’d write to each other. Make promises. And he would come to see her. Meet her family. Or she could go to him. Meet his mama and sister. She’d always wanted to see New York. Walk through Central Park, see the Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty. See all the wonderful museums. She could get a job as a secretary there. He could work in the garage where he’d been employed before the war. And every once in a while, he’d surprise her with flowers. They would flirt and dance in the kitchen as she made dinner. And he’d look at her in that way he always did, with that little smile that warmed her all the way to her toes. 
</p><p>They could be happy. 
</p><p>Dawn shook her head, dispelling the fantasy. She was being ridiculous. It was just a little innocent flirtation, and here she was, building castles in the clouds again. She wasn’t going to fall in love with Bucky Barnes. It was a crush, that was all. Something soft and light between two people in the middle of a warzone. The front was no place for fairytales.
</p><p>

</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. November 30- December 1, 1940</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">November 30, 1940</span>
  </b>
</p>
<p>The countryside near Dover was a beautiful place. Lush and green. The atmosphere in the Canadian camp was more relaxed than Dawn had expected. There was a tension, sure. But it also felt more like a holiday than she had thought possible. The nurses had all walked down to the cliffs yesterday. It was hard to feel afraid looking out at such an incredible view.</p>
<p>Dawn didn't know why everyone had warned her about winter in England. It really wasn't any worse than the weather back home. Especially not today.The The sun had come out after a week of cold, soaking rain. The nursing staff were taking advantage. They had claimed a pile of supply crates near the edge of the camp and were basking in the fall sunshine. Dawn was holding Ginny's yarn while she tried to untangle a nasty snarl in her knitting. It looked like this scarf might go the same way as the mittens that had proceeded it and get completely unravelled while Ginny used every swear word their time at war had taught her -- and a few that Dawn was pretty sure she had made up. On the next crate over Rosie was smiling over several folded pages. </p>
<p>Rosie reading was distracting Dawn enough that she wasn't much help with Ginny's knitting woes. Rosie was smart, capable, and pretty. Dawn had wanted to be her friend since she had first seen her smiling out from under her starched white wimple with the kind of apple pink cheeks that Dawn had been sure were made up from advertisement until she had encountered them in real life. She was sure Rosie would be an amazing friend, she just had to initiate some kind of conversation. And maybe pinch Ginny for whatever that look she got everytime she caught Dawn watching Rosie. It wasn't helping, whatever it meant. <i>Come on Dawn. You can do this. Just talk to her. "Hey Rosie, Letters from home?" It isn't hard. Just open your mouth and say words. </i></p>
<p>A pair of figures stumbled out of the woods. A woman with curly brown hair, her hand clutched to a worrying red stain on her abdomen, and an older man leaning heavily on the arm draped over her shoulders, apparently unable to support his own weight.</p>
<p>Army medics rushed in, catching them both before they could collapse.</p>
<p>"Pendragon. Bloody Pendragon. I need to speak to command and use your radio as soon as possible." The woman gasped, more red spreading over her hand every time she moved.</p>
<p>Ginny dropped her knitting and leapt into action. "Right now, you need a hospital slightly more than you need a radio. Boys, get them to the tent. Ladies, our life of leisure is at an end for the day."</p>
<p>★</p>
<p>Dawn had never liked Lance Corporal Collins. He was stuffy, always unpleasantly sweaty, and he <i>stared</i>. She liked him even less right now. She had a British woman bleeding out under her hands and he was getting in the way of saving her life. Dawn didn't see why it mattered whether she was a spy or not. Surely if she was a spy, they would still want her alive so they could interrogate her.</p>
<p>Ginny faced down the man fearlessly. He was half a head taller than her, and she wasn't giving him an inch of ground. "How about I do my job and make sure she doesn't bleed out from the gunshot wound to her stomach, and you do your job and figure out if she is one of ours or not."</p>
<p>The Lance Corporal wasn't nearly as intimated as Dawn thought he should be. He sighed and rubbed his temple, like he was the one being inconvenienced. "Nurse Whitman. As the highest-ranking officer here-"</p>
<p>"You're not, actually," Ginny said, cutting him off. "Doctor Jones is a Major. In fact, I'm technically a Captain. And as long as we are in the hospital, I outrank you. So, I suggest you take yourself out of my ward and see If you can't get someone who can confirm that code on the radio."</p>
<p>Ginny turned her back determinedly on the man, making her dismissal clear. "Dawn, Rosie, how are we looking?" </p>
<p>"He's stable. I think it is just exhaustion and delayed shock." Rosie said, inspecting the older man's pupils.</p>
<p>"I've got more of an issue. I think I've got the bleeding under control with pressure, but we're going to need at least a unit." She looked at the woman under her hands. Their guest, as Dawn was thinking of her since there hadn't been time for introductions, was getting paler by the second. "Do you happen to know your blood type? Normally they put it on the men's dog tags, but I don't suppose you have those."</p>
<p>"Fraid I rather missed that step. I've been terribly busy the last few months." Their guest's teeth chattered. Her whole body wracked with shivers. </p>
<p>Dawn leaned harder on the wound. She could feel the remnants of torn stitches pulling out and making the situation worse. "I need blankets and a hot water bottle over here. She's going into shock"</p>
<p>"Shock. Oh. That's rather bad isn't it?" Their guest's voice faded to a weak tremor and her eyes fluttered.</p>
<p>"Nothing we can't handle," Dawn said, smiling as reassuringly as she could. </p>
<p>Their guest passed out after that. It was probably for the best. The next bit got a little messy.</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">December 1, 1940</span>
  </b>
</p>
<p>Their guest stirred in her cot. She lay where she was for a moment, blinking as she tried to get her bearings, then began struggling to extract herself from her blankets.</p>
<p>Dawn set down her text book and hurried to her bedside. "Oh good. You're awake. We don't have a female ward here, so you're bunking in with us for now."</p>
<p>The woman groaned and let Dawn help her into a sitting position. "Is it normal to hurt this much?"</p>
<p>Dawn grimaced in sympathy. "Morphine is in short supply out here I'm afraid. I can get you an aspirin." </p>
<p>"I'd rather have a whiskey."</p>
<p>"We might be able to help with that too." Ginny said with a mischievous wink. "Don't tell the men."</p>
<p>Ginny rummaged in her footlocker, coming up a few minutes later with a bottle of amber and three camp mugs. The bottle of Canadian rye whiskey was technically contraband, but the officers looked the other way for the nurses as long as they behaved themselves. Whiskey could be 'medicinal' after all. Matron even joins them for a tipple occasionally. She splashed a finger’s worth into two of the mugs. The third got just a mouthful. She passed the light mug to Dawn, before offering one to their guest.</p>
<p>"I'm sister Whitman and this is sister Danielsen," Ginny said, obviously giving up on the mystery of not being properly introduced. "Ginny and Dawn if we're going to be friends. And the unconscious blonde over there is Rosie Waters."</p>
<p>	After taking care of the woman’s companion, Rosie was taking a well-deserved rest, and was currently face-down on her cot with her blankets pulled up to her ears. </p>
<p>Their guest smiled and breathed in the vapours off her drink. "Agent Carter. Peggy, since you saved my life and got me whiskey." Peggy raised her tin mug in a toast. "To new friends in terrible situations."</p>
<p>"To friends." Dawn and Ginny echoed, clinking the three cups together.</p>
<p>Peggy took a sip and let out a long appreciative sigh. "Any chance of that radio any time soon? It was rather urgent."</p>
<p>Dawn giggled and wet her lips with the whiskey. She had thought that might be the first question once she was awake. "One of us will walk you over once you finish your drink. Apparently, Lance Corporal Collins got quite the earful for stalling instead of reporting you and your code word right away."</p>
<p>Their guest pursed her lips and took a tiny sip of her whiskey. "I hate to say I'm pleased."</p>
<p>Ginny smirked over the rim of her mug. "But it is kind of pleasing."</p>
<p>★</p>
<p>Peggy stayed with them for three days before she and the Doctor were ready to travel. They spent the time playing chess and telling horror stories about their worst college professors. Dawn was sad to see her go when they finally loaded her into a plane. All of the nurses who bunked in their dormitory came out to the airfield to wave her off. No one expected her to write. It just wasn't the sort of thing she could do in her job.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. June 36 1943 & February 6, 1942</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">June 26, 1943</span>
  </b>
</p><p>Dawn couldn't find Jack. Which was a problem. Ginny had been in surgery for thirteen hours and had passed out in one of the ward beds. Not for the first time. When this happened, she normally found Jack and he carried her back to their tent. But he was missing. He should be in camp. But it was a busy camp and he wasn't anywhere obvious.</p><p>She spotted the back of a familiar head. “Bucky!"</p><p>"Hey doll," He turned, warm smile collapsing when he saw her face. "What's the matter?"</p><p>She dashed over to him, shoes skidding briefly on the hard-packed ground. "I'm not strong enough to carry Ginny. Last time I tried, I dropped her in a puddle."</p><p>He blinked, confused. "Carry Ginny? Why would you have to carry Ginny?"</p><p>Dawn bounced anxiously. Fingers plucking at his sleeve. "She passed out and…Can you please just come?"</p><p>Bucky let her tow him along easily. He never liked to see anyone frantic the way Dawn was. With the soft spot he had developed for his 'favourite nurse' he would follow her to the ends of the earth. Even if he still wasn't entirely sure what she needed him to do.</p><p>"This sort of thing happen a lot?" He asked, looking both bemused and concerned as she led him to the tent. None of the nurses he could see looked well-rested. Rosie's blonde curls were lank and falling out of the white cloth covering her head. The mousie one, <i>Minnie?</i>, had splashed water down her front and hadn't changed yet.</p><p>"I wouldn't say a lot…" She hedged, not meeting his gaze. To Ginny more than the rest of them. Ginny tended to mother hen them all and chase them out of the hospital tent before they got this bad. It was hard to pull any of them out of surgery though. They couldn't just abandon their patients on the table and take a coffee break. </p><p>Bucky shook his head. "You girls work too hard."</p><p>Dawn bristled. They worked exactly as hard as they needed to.“Send  your complaints to the Nazis. The sooner they pack up and stop harassing their neighbours and killing people for no reason, the sooner we can all get some sleep.”</p><p>"Next time I see one I will give him a very stern talking to." Bucky soothed. He hadn't meant anything by it. He didn’t like to see the women exhausted was all. </p><p>	Dawn led him to the Minor Injury Ward, striding purposefully through the tent flaps to lead him to her friend. Ginny had taken up residence in a cot at the back of the tent, near one of the nurse’s stations. She looked pale, dark circles like bruises under her eyes. She didn’t even stir as they approached. </p><p>	“If I thought it would help, I’d seal her in the nurses’ barracks myself,” Dawn told him quietly. “But she wouldn’t listen. They need her, I know they do. And she’s even worse when Jack is away. She tries so hard to keep her mind off of it but... “</p><p>	Bucky nodded his understanding. It’s hard to be the one left behind, waiting for news. Being stationed so close would be both a blessing and a curse. You could see your sweetheart more often, but if something happened… </p><p>	Ginny barely stirred as Bucky lifted her, shifting her briefly so she sat more securely in his arms. He nodded at Dawn to lead the way.</p><p>	They made their way as carefully as possible across the hospital camp to the nurses’ barracks. Men weren’t allowed inside, so Dawn did a quick peek into the tent to make sure they wouldn’t be observed. It was empty for now, so Dawn gave Bucky a brief signal to follow her. He did, ducking through the front flaps of the tent. </p><p>	Dawn led him silently through the barracks and directed him to lay Ginny on her bed.</p><p>	He did so gently, and Dawn bent to remove her friend’s shoes and cover her with her blanket. Then Dawn turned to her own bed, taking her own coverlet to cover her friend as well. Dawn gave her hair one last affectionate caress. She was out like a light.</p><p>	Bucky and Dawn beat a fast retreat outside before anyone could catch them.</p><p>Bucky tweaked a curl that had slipped free of Dawn's wimple. "This is probably the wrong time to ask, but were those your stockings hanging on the line?"</p><p>Dawn coughed and stuttered. "I don't know what you're talking about. I have to get back to work."</p><p>Grinning wickedly Bucky leaned down until his lips almost brushed her ear. "I like your stockings."</p><p>She squeaked and bolted back towards the safety of the hospital tents. Away from handsome boys with too blue eyes and lips that made her lose her head.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">February 6, 1942</span>
  </b>
</p><p>The red ensign and the regimental flag snapped in the breeze as the entire unit crowded into the mess tent. Even in her uniform greatcoat, Dawn felt the late winter chill. Dawn clutched Ginny's hand to stop her short friend from getting lost as they wound their way to where the rest of the nursing staff were crowded around a table.</p><p>Dawn was surprised when she saw that it wasn't just the Colonel waiting to address them all. She hadn't seen a General in person in months. Whatever this meeting was about, it was important. She wondered if it was good or bad news. Maybe they were finally leaving England. Maybe the war was coming for them.</p><p>A hush fell over the tent as a Staff Sergeant called for silence. </p><p>The General stood, raising a hand in greeting before he started speaking. "The 206th is being remanded to the Americans for the foreseeable future. Medical core and all. You'll be working with the 107 and the SOE."</p><p>There was an outcry from the crowd. They were all patriotic Canadians. They had fought, and bled, and lost friends for their country and this war. Now they were going to be loaned out for the American Army to use as lackeys. No one expected the Americans to treat them as equals, or even respect the sacrifices they had made so far. </p><p>Dawn tuned out most of the rest of the general's speech. She was more interested in watching Ginny and Rosie as their expressions grew darker. Ginny tapped her toe. Rosie crossed her arms over her chest. Dawn wondered if Rosie knew how green her eyes got when she was mad.</p><p>The general waved down the racket. "I know our American friends are late to this party, but they did show up, and they brought the big guns so I expect you all to play nice. Your direct command will have specific details for you."</p><p>Dismissed, the personnel streamed out into the larger camp, the nurses huddling together in a whispering flock as they made their way back to the hospital tent.</p><p>★</p><p>"Ladies! You are nurses not sailors. I expect you to act like it." The matron called over the buzz of feminine voices. The nurses were deeply distressed by the news. It sounded like their charges were about to double and the command wouldn't be <i>their</i> command.</p><p>"Why aren't they sending their own medical staff?" Someone called from the back of the room.</p><p>"They are, but they are short on fully trained personnel that are ready for the front. We will be assisting while they set up and get their feet under them." The matron said soothingly. "The Americans will be bringing resources and personal. Exactly the things we are always asking for."</p><p>Ginny folded her arms across her chest. Her jaw set and eyes cold. "They'd better not come in here acting like they know better. We've been over here for two years."</p><p>"We're not going to hold their hands either. They'd better be able to pull their own weight." Rosie sounded determined too.</p><p>Dawn nodded in agreement with the other women. She couldn’t deny that the help was badly needed, but after two years here this was their camp. They knew its routines, its people, and had established routines and protocols of their own in response. They didn’t need a bunch of entitled outsiders taking over under the mistaken impression that they knew best. </p><p>“We should set up a kind of orientation.” She suggested. “Maybe pair off with them, introduce them to how we do things here so there isn’t any confusion.”</p><p>Ginny bumped her shoulder against Dawn's. "You really are the nicest of us."</p><p>She laughed, shaking her head bashfully. “I figured it would save us the trouble of having to bury them under the floorboards later.” Her boss had set up a similar type of orientation when she started her first job. It had been really invaluable in helping her understand the processes and the individual office culture. Hopefully a similar principle would be of help here too.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. July 1-3, 1943</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">July 1, 1943</span>
  </b>
</p>
<p>Dominion day dawned bright and warm. The Canadians were all on light duty, with an extra ration of chocolate to celebrate. Bucky was at his ease for the afternoon too and joined Dawn and her friends to lounge around the meadow by the camp. They played tag and blind man's bluff like children, laughing and chasing each other until they were all exhausted.</p>
<p>Bucky didn't care about winning as much as he was enjoying the excuse to get his arms around Dawn. He was drunk on the sound his pretty nurse made when he swept her off her feet.</p>
<p>They tumbled into little knots of two or three as the game broke up. Dawn found herself caught up by Bucky again, lifted off her feet and set down in the middle of a patch of wildflowers.</p>
<p>Bucky flopped down next to her. "Is this what it's like back home? Do you crazy northerners always celebrate four days early like this?"</p>
<p>"Has it occurred to you that <i>you</i> might celebrate late?"</p>
<p>A smirk curled the corners of Bucky's mouth. "Nah. That can't be it. America is the best country in the world after all."</p>
<p>"That is the exact kind of Yankee arrogance -- " Dawn cut herself off when she saw his shoulders shaking with contained laughter. "You're teasing me!"</p>
<p>Bucky tucked her hair behind her ear. It was pretty down. "You just make it so easy, Sunshine."</p>
<p>Dawn blushed and fumbled a small hard-backed book out of her pocket. She didn't want to think too hard on the sparkle in his eyes. At least she could always disappear into her books. Familiar stories with familiar rhythms, and more importantly no smiles that left her confused and wanting more.</p>
<p>"Here." Jack appeared suddenly and tossed a flower crown into Dawn's lap. "Apparently the light of my life doesn't appreciate my hard work. She refuses to let me put this on her."</p>
<p>Dawn glanced over at Ginny. She was already swathed in enough wreaths and garlands that it was hard to see her hair or dress under them. Dawn giggled and set the crown on her head. "Why does she put up with you?"</p>
<p>Jack looked back at his wife, grinning like a mad man. "Eight years and I still have no idea. She's never strayed though. So, I must be doing something right."</p>
<p>Jack bounded across the field and tackled his wife, rolling Ginny over in the grass until he had her in his lap. She laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck. They tucked their heads together, talking in low voices that no one else could hear.</p>
<p>"I want that. I want to be stupid in love for years." Bucky announced leaning back on his elbows. "I want to be the old couple that people say are a disgrace because they still can't keep their hands off each other."</p>
<p>Dawn looked up at him surprised. She had always pegged him as a bit of a playboy, and whatever was between them was just a flirtation. "You do?"</p>
<p>Bucky plucked one of the flowers out of her crown. "You don't?" </p>
<p>Dawn blushed and dropped her eyes to the book in her lap. <i>I do, and I think I might want it with you.</i></p>
<p>Bucky resisted the temptation to lick his lips. There was so much going on behind those pretty eyes. She was smart, probably too smart for a guy like him. And brave, she had to be or she wouldn't be out here, she'd be tucked up safe and sound somewhere on the home front. But even though she could talk a good game, on the inside she could be so shy compared to the girls he was used to. If he pushed too hard, he'd scare her off, and that was the last thing he wanted. He lay back in the grass. "What are you reading anyway?"</p>
<p>"Tristan and Isolde. It's the most beautiful love story about a knight who falls in love with a queen. But she's married to his king and they can't be together …" Dawn trailed off before she could get carried away. She tended to gush when it came to literature. Most guys stopped listening and then stopped talking to her. Hell, even her mother had told her to her face she didn’t care about the books that Dawn so loved. She thought Bucky was different, but she didn't want to risk what they had.  "It is one of my favorites."</p>
<p>"Sounds interesting." Bucky wrapped an arm around her hips and dragged her in so her back was supported by his side. It sounded like the sort of thing the nuns would try to make him read and Steve would end up walking him through the day before the assignment was due so he didn't fail the class. "Go on. I'm sure I'll get the idea."</p>
<p>Dawn blushed and stared her chapter over. She hadn't read aloud since college. It was a soothing feeling. The soft words of the love story floating through the air as Bucky's fingers traced lazy circles on her side.</p>
<p>Bucky's fingers stilled after three-quarters of a chapter. Dawn looked down. He was sound asleep, with his arm still around her and a smile on his lips. He had the flower from her crown tucked behind his ear. <i>Stupid in love</i>. It sounded like more of a fantasy than her book.</p>
<p>But she’d always been a dreamer, stories of romance and adventure her favourite indulgence. She’d never been able to resist a Happily Ever After, had always dreamed of one for herself. Maybe not the sweeping, epic romance that she’d dreamed of as a child. But something settled and warm and happy... Like falling asleep in the sunlight in a field of wildflowers. </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">July 3, 1943</span>
  </b>
</p>
<p>One thing nothing could stop was the US postal service. Apparently Nazi ordinance fell into the same category as wind and rains and icy sleet. Mail delivery to the front could be sporadic, but they made it through. Today's was a very special delivery for Bucky. Letters from his ma, from his sister Rebecca, and for the first time since he'd shipped out, a fat envelope from Steve.</p>
<p>Bucky started with the letter from Steve. No offense to his ma or his baby sister, but he knew what they were going to say. <i>Things are fine, keep your spirits up, we miss you, we're thinking of you.</i> Steve on the other hand was a mystery. They hadn't actually written each other since Bucky had left. Plus, the envelope was huge. He tore it open to find a stack of comic books and a letter on thick paper torn from a sketchbook. </p>
<p>Bucky laughed at the comic books. <i>Steve Rogers is CAPTAIN AMERICA!</i> They were all like that. Ridiculous, hyper-patriotic images connected by overblown storylines. Looked like Steve was doing alright for himself.</p>
<p>★</p>
<p>
  <i>Bucky</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>You know, I think this is the first letter I've ever written you. Why would I have written before? You were always right there for anything important enough to put on paper.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Still stupid that this is my first letter. You've been gone for months.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I'm not the only terrible correspondent though. "England fucking sucks. I hate the rain." Seriously? You call that a letter? </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I've been busy. I got a job. A real one. Or at least one that is realer than collecting scrap metal. I'm working for the war office. In the propaganda department. Maybe you saw? They said they were going to send some of the comic books to the front. Public opinion and sales of war bonds have skyrocketed thanks to me, at least that's what Senator Brand says. Sometimes it feels ridiculous. Like playing make-believe when guys like you are really putting their lives on the line. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I don't know. I'm probably just whining.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>The show is on the road and I can't for the life of me sleep on the train. Between the stage manager, the choreographer, the writer, and the director all with notes, it feels like someone is banging on my door every ten minutes. And once they leave me alone for the night the parade of girls starts. Chorus girls! Hordes of them, I swear.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>God Bucky, you'd be so proud. I have talked to more girls in the past WEEK than I have in the rest of my life. The only problem is I don't think any of them are actually interested in Me. They are all looking for the hero from the comic books, not some scrawny kid from Brooklyn.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>There I go, whining again. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>It isn't anything like what you're going through. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Write me back, jerk. I miss my best friend.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Steve Rogers</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>PS: How the hell do you write a letter to a girl you only kind of know? I like her, but she didn't actually ask me to write.</i>
</p>
<p>★</p>
<p>He was smiling when Dawn found him, a softer, more genuinely happy expression than she’d seen him wear for a while. "Good news?"</p>
<p>"You could say that." Bucky beamed up at her. First the good news that Steve was doing alright and had found a job that made him feel like he was contributing. Now his favorite nurse was seeking him out. It always gave him a thrill when she came looking for him instead of the other way around.</p>
<p>“Gifts from home?” Dawn was pretty sure her heart was going to explode from the effect of having that smile turned on her.</p>
<p>He nodded. "Here. I want to show you something." Bucky pulled her into his lap. She'd appreciate this. He set the top comic book in her hands. "This is my best friend."</p>
<p>She gave him an incredulous look "Your best friend is a comic book hero?"</p>
<p>"Nah. He draws them. They named the idiot in tights after him and everything."</p>
<p>Her face lit up in interest as she turned back to the book, flipping through the colourful pages. “Your friend is really talented. This is great!”</p>
<p>Bucky beamed with pride. How could he not when his best friend was finally doing what he’d always been meant to do? Not propaganda necessarily, but art. Inspiring people. And he could contribute to the war effort like he always wanted. Maybe not on the front lines -- thank God for that -- but in his own way. And now his work was out there for the world to see. </p>
<p>“This is fantastic,” Dawn smiled, glancing up at him. And something in her softened at his absolute delight in what his friend had accomplished. “Hey, if your friend’s the artist, maybe you’ll get a cameo!”</p>
<p>Bucky laughed. “I’d really rather not. If that’s what he put himself in, I shudder to think of the kind of getup the little punk would put me in.”</p>
<p>“Aw, you don’t want to wear matching spangly tights?” She teased, nudging him playfully. </p>
<p>“Absolutely not.”</p>
<p>“Aw, but you’d look so sweet if you matched.” She teased, straightening his collar.</p>
<p>He could kiss her right now. If he just tipped his head just a little. Their lips would find each other. <i>Don't blow this. Take it slow. She's worth it</i>. He compromised by running his fingers through her hair. "Come to the dance with me tomorrow."</p>
<p>"I can't." Dawn sighed and tucked her head under his chin.</p>
<p>"You don't want to dance with me?" Bucky chuckled, running his fingers down her arms.</p>
<p>She did want to dance with him again. Far more than she should probably admit to. Unfortunately, this time she didn’t have much choice in the matter. "I'm working the night shift all week."</p>
<p>"Hmm. You know, I think I feel a stomach ache coming on." Bucky kissed the point of her shoulder. "I should probably be put under observation for the next 48 hours."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. August 18-19, 1943</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">August 18, 1943 </span>
  </b>
</p><p>Another explosion made Dawn flinch. The shelling had started just after dinner and hadn't let up since. It was almost midnight and all Dawn wanted to do was sleep. How was she supposed to do that when she couldn't even sit still? She paced from one end of the tent to the other, trying futilely to calm her nerves.</p><p>She had been anxious for days. Ever since the Germans launched a vicious assault on the front closest to the camp. They had pushed the Allied soldier back far enough that the ranking officers in the camp were starting to worry. </p><p>Dawn wished they would stop using the hospital prep room for their 'surreptitious' conversations. She was having a hard time putting on a brave face for her patients after walking in on a flock of captains whispering about retreat four times a day.</p><p>And now the world was exploding every few minutes.</p><p>"Would you relax? Watching you is the most stressed I've been all day. And I had to close from an appendectomy after Jones was called away." Ginny held up the sweater she was knitting to check the size.</p><p>"I think they are getting closer." There should be more space for pacing in the tent. The support poles were throwing her off.</p><p>"Count the delay." Ginny said absently returning to her work.</p><p>"They are mortar rounds, not lightning strikes." The words came out more than a little hysterical. She could not get used to the sound of shelling. She didn’t think she ever would. How in God’s name could her father have willingly enlisted to go through this nightmare a second time?</p><p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">August 19, 1943</span>
  </b>
</p><p>"You're lookin' a little rough today doll." Bucky was worried about her. The entire camp was on edge. Tempers on a hair trigger from the shelling over the last few days. It wouldn’t take much to set something off and for the nurses to get caught in the crossfire. Which wasn't why he was hanging around outside the hospital tent…. It wasn't.</p><p>"I didn't sleep last night." Dawn confessed, rubbing gritty eyes with the back of her hand.</p><p> Bucky slipped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her down onto a crate. "Noisy neighbours kept you up?"</p><p>Dawn nestled her head against his shoulder. She felt safe against his side like this. He was big and warm and the hand rubbing her arm made her feel so grounded. "How do you do that? How are you not terrified all the time? I'd be scared stiff if I had to go out there. I am scared stiff."</p><p>Bucky shook his head. "Who says I'm not?" </p><p>She glanced up at him, watching his face carefully. “Really?”</p><p>He nodded. Then continued in a low voice. “You said it was a filing error that got you here. Wasn’t my first choice either, if you catch my drift.”</p><p>She went very still against him as the dots connected in her mind. “You were drafted?” She felt more than saw him nod, and it only made her hold him tighter. Her poor Bucky. Bad enough to be here by your own choice, but to be forced into a war against your will… </p><p>The chuckle he let out in response was low, rueful, and more than a little bitter. He pulled his arm away from her shoulder. He’d thought his heart was going to stop the day he got his letter. It had taken him twenty-four hours and a full bottle of whiskey before he’d been able to tell Steve, let alone his ma.<br/>
<br/>
“All Steve wanted was to be allowed to get over here, and all I wanted was to be allowed to stay home.” But neither of them had gotten what they wanted. Steve had been refused at every recruitment office he walked into, and Bucky was carted off to Basic. He’d been good with vehicles, but then he always had been. He could have happily gone his whole life without discovering how good he was with a gun. He had spent his first several weeks on the front heaving into the bushes after every skirmish.<br/>
<br/>
Steve would have been so much better at all of this. Well, not sleeping in a tent, but running into danger, and not being scared of anything. Steve had always been great at that. Too good at it. It got them into trouble more times than Bucky could count. Steve’s reckless martyr, fight-whether-you-can-win-or-not attitude, was the reason so many of Bucky’s stories ended with ‘so I punched the guy’. Everyone seemed to think it was because he was a tough guy, the truth was he just didn’t want to see the people he cared about hurt. He studied his hands in his lap. His knuckles weren’t bruised as often these days. Instead they were speckled with powder burns and small cuts, his palm calloused where he held his rifle. He missed the bruises.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re a Sergeant.” Dawn whispered. She hadn’t even considered that Bucky had been forced into this. He was so strong, and capable. And he was always smiling. At least with her, he smiled.<br/>
<br/>
“My shooting scores were just that good. Ironic, right?” Bucky snorted. That had been a surprise to him too. He’d outmatched everyone in his basic training class and the class ahead of his. Between that and his personable attitude, his training officers had been pretty much forced to promote him. Not that he had objected. Being more than a private was a perverse kind of protection. “I hate fighting, wouldn’t do it if I had a choice, but I’m pretty damn good at it.”</p><p>“Oh, Bucky.” Dawn pulled his hand into her lap, folding it between both of hers. </p><p>The corner of Bucky’s mouth twitched up in more of a grimace than a smile. Look at him, pouring his heart out to a pretty girl. "Don't go blabbin' on me. I've got a reputation to maintain."</p><p>"Your secret is safe with me,” she promised, snuggling back against him. “If anyone asks I'll tell them you're completely Devil may care and not scared of anything." But she would know the truth. That he was as scared as she was, but brave enough to face it every day anyway. </p><p>Bucky rocked her gently. Humming softly. He hated the idea that his girl was scared all the time. Even more than he hated being scared all the time.</p><p>"What song is that?" Dawn asked, cuddling her head more firmly against his neck.</p><p>Bucky kissed the side of her head. It was a little embarrassing. "Just a little ditty that makes me think of you."</p><p>"Sing it for me?" Dawn curled a hand into the fabric of his shirt. He was so warm and solid. She was safe here. Nothing could hurt her as long as he was holding her.</p><p>"Course, doll." Bucky tightened the arm around her waist. She wanted him to sing. He could sing.</p><p>
  <i>"The other night dear, as I lay sleeping<br/>
I dreamed I held you in my arms<br/>
But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken<br/>
So I hung my head and I cried</i>
</p><p>
  <i>You are my Sunshine, my only Sunshine<br/>
You make me happy when skies are gray<br/>
You'll never know dear, how much I love you<br/>
Please don't take my Sunshine away</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I'll always love you and make you happy<br/>
If you will only say the same<br/>
But if you leave me and love another<br/>
You'll regret it all some day</i>
</p><p>
  <i>You are my Sunshine, my only Sunshine<br/>
You make me happy when skies are gray<br/>
You'll never know dear, how much I love you<br/>
Please don't take my Sunshine away</i>
</p><p>
  <i>You told me once, dear, you really loved me<br/>
And no one else could come between<br/>
But now you've left me and love another<br/>
You have shattered all of my dreams</i>
</p><p>
  <i>You are my Sunshine, my only Sunshine<br/>
You make me happy when skies are gray<br/>
You'll never know dear, how much I love you<br/>
Please don't take my Sunshine away</i>
</p><p>
  <i>In all my dreams, dear, you seem to leave me<br/>
When I awake my poor heart pains<br/>
So when you come back and make me happy<br/>
I'll forgive you dear, I'll take all the blame</i>
</p><p><i>You are my Sunshine, my only Sunshine<br/>
You make me happy when skies are gray<br/>
You'll never know dear, how much I love you<br/>
Please don't take my Sunshine away"</i> Bucky trailed off as he finished the song.</p><p>
  
</p><p>Dawn shifted closer to him, head rubbing against his shoulder in what a more daring girl might call a nuzzle. "You have a nice voice." </p><p>Bucky rubbed her back. "Come on Sunshine. I don't want to be the reason you're late for rounds."</p><p>He escorted her to the ward, smiling as she disappeared inside. As he turned to go, he saw the twitch of canvas as Ginny stepped outside. </p><p>Bucky tossed her a lazy salute. "Sister Whitman. Always a pleasure." </p><p>"I'm watching you, Romeo." Ginny glared at him, hands on her hips.</p><p>Bucky gave her his brightest smile. "You don't like me, do you?"</p><p>She didn't warm at all. "I think you're trouble."</p><p>"I don't want to hurt her." Would rather cut off his left arm than even think about it.</p><p>Ginny obviously wasn't won over by his assurance. "Just because you're not trying to doesn't mean you're not going to."</p><p>There was little he could say to that. He couldn’t promise that everything would be okay. But he would do everything in his power to be there for her, to come back to her, as long as she’d have him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. April 17, 1942</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">April 17, 1942</span>
  </b>
</p>
<p>It was dark and quiet in the nurses' tent. All the girls not on night-shift were tucked snuggly into their beds. Dawn had her blankets pulled up to her ears. It had been a good day and she was enjoying a solid night of uninterrupted sleep.</p>
<p>A hand covered Dawn mouth. She froze in panic. Eyes snapping open.</p>
<p>Ginny was standing over her, wearing a blue dress and pearls instead of her nightgown.</p>
<p>"What the hell?" Dawn hissed not wanting to wake the others.</p>
<p>"I'm about to do something crazy and I need your help." Ginny whispered back.</p>
<p>Twenty minutes later Dawn found herself dressed in her best dress and sneaking over the fence that formed the perimeter of the camp.</p>
<p>★</p>
<p>Ginny led the way surreptitiously through the still sleepy hamlet towards the spire of the old gothic church.</p>
<p>Jack beamed on the steps of the church, a bouquet of wildflowers clutched in his hand. Doctor Jones stood next to him. grinning like an idiot himself.</p>
<p>Dawn grabbed her friend’s arm and dragged them to a stop. "Ginny! Are you eloping?"</p>
<p>"Does it count as eloping if my parents know?" Ginny asked seriously.</p>
<p>"Does <i>matron</i> know?" Already Dawn was prepared to craft some kind of cover story, to pretend some kind of ignorance if they were found out.</p>
<p>"You know, I'm sure I mentioned it,” Ginny answered with a small, mischievous smile. “Almost positive. It's been so busy the last few weeks."</p>
<p>Dawn took her friend’s hand, concern written clearly on her face. This was crazy. "They're going to reassign you."</p>
<p>"Only if they find out,” Ginny shrugged. “Jones knows. He doesn't think it's going to affect my work. Montgomery knows too. He’s covering for the boys."</p>
<p>Dawn blinked. Ginny had put a lot of thought into this. Telling both doctors was a huge risk if this didn't work. And Ginny still didn't look even the least abashed. "Your bohemian upbringing has left you with a very skewed worldview."</p>
<p>Ginny set a hand on her hip and raised one eyebrow. "Are you going to stand up for me, or do I need to go wake Minnie up?"</p>
<p>"I can't believe you would even joke about that." Dawn straightened purposefully, fighting down her worry and letting her joy for her friends swell up in its place. </p>
<p>"Well then. I believe we have a wedding to get to.." Ginny lit up at the thought.</p>
<p>Jack picked Ginny up and spun her around as soon as she was within arm's reach. "I love you."</p>
<p>"I love you." Ginny curled her hands around his biceps, melting into his hold. “Mrs. Ginevra Simard. It sounds right."</p>
<p>Jack rested his forehead against hers. Love showing in every inch of his body. "Not as good as Doctor Ginevra Simard will."</p>
<p>"Priest is waiting on us." Doctor Jones said nodding towards the doors.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>★</p>
<p>Dawn was too much of a lady to swear as they hurried into the hospital twenty minutes late for their shift. It was tempting though. Her stocking was twisted and her wimple was <i>going</i> to fall off.</p>
<p>The matron regarded them sternly over her clipboard. "You're late for morning rounds, ladies."</p>
<p>"Sorry matron." Ginny bobbed a curtsy. "I had a sudden urge to visit church. Pastoral care is so important in these trying times. Forgive Sister Dawn, I dragged her with me."</p>
<p>"Of course, dear." Matron patted Ginny's cheek affectionately. "We only have Daniels and Grant at the moment, they are both doing well. I will ask that you change Grant's dressing today for your tardiness."</p>
<p>"Yes, ma'am." Ginny bobbed another neat curtsey.</p>
<p>The matron straightened Dawn's wimple before she left the girls to their work.</p>
<p>Dawn gaped at Ginny as the matron walked away. "Are you kidding me? It was your turn to do dressings anyway."</p>
<p>Ginny grinned evilly. "Like my grandmother always says, the world can only dance to your tune if you play it. Nine times out of ten confidence is all it takes." </p>
<p>"Some days I hate you and your suffragette forebears." Dawn sighed and resigned herself to another day of charting. </p>
<p>Ginny laughed and grabbed a tray full of supplies. "I'll try to remember that the next time mama sends me jam."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. September 22- 27, 1943</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">September 22, 1943</span>
  </b>
</p><p>The camp was normally a relaxed place. Today it was like an overturned ant hill. They were moving. Not the controlled packing up and moving Dawn was used to when they were advancing. This was a retreat. A frantic one. </p><p>Hydra had broken their line. </p><p>They needed to evacuate the camp or risk everyone being captured. There were disturbing whispers that Hydra wasn't respecting the red cross. They were taking nurses and other non-combatants prisoner. Dawn was holding herself together with a combination of prayer and focusing on one job at a time.</p><p>The nurses were loading all of the patients into marked ambulances with the help of the rest of the medical staff. One nurse per red cross emblazoned truck, each in charge of as many injured soldiers as they could cram inside. </p><p>The end of the stretcher slipped out of Dawn's hand, her feet slipping in the mud.</p><p>A strong arm wrapped around her waist, a second reaching down to grab the stretcher.</p><p>She looked up into Bucky's face. His jaw was set and serious. A fierce, protective light filled his eyes.</p><p>He got her moving again. Keeping her upright at the same time he supported the end of the stretcher she was supposed to be carrying. Together they stumbled to the waiting line of ambulances.</p><p>Bucky grabbed Dawn's waist and boosted her into the back of the ambulance. "Hop up, Sunshine. This is your carriage."</p><p>Dawn shook her head and made to get out of the ambulance. "No, I'm in the next one. Ginny is in this one."</p><p>Bucky set a hand on her shoulder, pushing her back. "Ginny is taking the next one with the doctor. They still haven't got Braddock stable."</p><p>One of the medics helped a man with a broken arm up next to Dawn. Everything around them was still chaos.</p><p>"What about you? And Jack. Ginny will want to know -- "</p><p>Bucky cut her off. "Don't worry about the rest of us. We'll be right behind the ambulances."</p><p>Dawn knew that was true. How many times had she gone over the evacuation procedure? There had been a time when she was glad the nurses and their patients were the first ones out. "I know but…"</p><p>Bucky grabbed the sides of her head just under the rim of her helmet, fingers lost in her hair as it tumbled out of it's pins. He had wanted this to be a soft thing when it happened. Moonlight on water. The kind of thing that made a girl dreamy for you. Made all her friends sigh when she told them. It was more important that it happened now. Just in case he needed it to happen now.</p><p>He pulled her face to his, pressing their lips together. It wasn't his best kiss, but it would have to do as a first effort. The next one would be better.</p><p>He had to believe in the next one.</p><p>"I'll see you soon, okay?" Bucky whispered. The sound just loud enough to reach her over the din around them.</p><p>He didn't wait for a response. Pushing her further into the back of the truck and slamming the door. Two sharp raps with his knuckles sent the driver off. Bucky watched the ambulance go with a silent prayer. As far as he was concerned that one had the most precious cargo.</p><p>"Barnes! You're covering the rear. Get back there. Orders are fire at will for the sharp shooters." Bucky's captain bellowed from his position loading the transport trucks.</p><p>Bucky snapped a salute. "Yes sir."</p><p>He jogged away, dodging the arriving stretcher where Ginny knelt on the chest of a wounded man. One hand keeping an IV elevated, the other bloody well past the wrist. The doctor jogged on the other side of the stretcher, equally gore spattered.</p><p>Looked like it was going to be a long night for everyone.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">September 27, 1943</span>
  </b>
</p><p>Bucky had been waiting outside the hospital tent for the better part of an hour. He needed to talk to Dawn, and he was running out of time to do it.</p><p>Finally, he spotted her. Walking back towards the hospital with an arm full of clean sheets.</p><p> "Hey, Sunshine."</p><p>She turned, her face lighting up when she saw him. "Bucky!" <i>Damn it Dawn, we talked about this, keep it together. Do not lose yourself in those eyes again.</i></p><p>Bucky took the sheets from her and handed them to a passing medic. That ought to buy him at least a minute. "I've missed you the last few days."</p><p>"I've been busy. Setting up the hospital is always a lot of work." Especially when you had to tear down the previous set-up and retreat in a hurry. The inventory alone would keep them busy for weeks. Everything needed disinfecting.</p><p>"Yeah?" Bucky shoved his hands into his pockets. He hated feeling like he was on the wrong foot with a girl. "Kinda felt like you were avoiding me."</p><p>"N--no." Dawn stuttered. She wouldn't say avoiding. She just wasn't going looking for him, or spending a lot of time in the mess, and had hurried to and from her barracks so she wasn't out and about for long. "Why would I do that?"</p><p>"You'd have to tell me, doll." Bucky shrugged.</p><p>"I just…" Dawn studied her feet intently. She didn't know how to answer him without lying. <i>I think I'm falling in love with you and I've never given anyone enough of my heart that they could hurt me before</i>. She couldn't just say that. Saying it would make it real.</p><p>Bucky tucked a finger under her chin and tipped her face up. "I can't fix it if you don't tell me what's wrong."</p><p>"I'm scared," Dawn whispered, shaking with nerves at the confession.</p><p>"Of me? That won't fly." He slipped an arm around her, pulling her close.</p><p>Dawn shook her head, still refusing to meet his gaze. “No, not of you. Never of you.” But wasn’t it true all the same?</p><p>Bucky tucked her hair behind her ear. Not scared of him. That was good. But she was definitely scared. There was only one other thing she could be scared of that would lead to her avoiding him. She was scared of <i>them</i>. "I don't want to push you, doll. You say the word and we'll slow right down. I'll even settle for just being your friend. Don't that sound good? My pal Bucky. He's the sweet one who takes me dancing. Come on, you say it."</p><p>"My Bucky." Dawn breathed the words. Not the ones he'd prompted her to say, the ones in her heart.</p><p>Bucky cradled her softly against him. That sounded so good coming from her. "I'm gonna be one of those overprotective big brother types, though. None of these other schmucks are good enough for you."</p><p>Dawn turned her face into his chest. "I missed you too."</p><p>"Ahh, now I feel bad." Bucky rubbed the back of her wimple covered head. "I'm heading out for a bit. Nothing to worry about. Just routine. I wanted to clear the air between us before I went."</p><p>Dawn's hands tightened around fistfuls of his shirt as if the act of doing so could keep him from leaving. "Bucky."</p><p>"I'll be back in a few days." Bucky pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. "Don't be scared, Sunshine."</p><p>He gently freed himself from her grip. Kissing her fingers before he let her go. Walking away was one of the hardest things he'd ever done, but he managed it.</p><p>"Wait." Dawn hurried after him. She didn't want to be his friend. Or she did, but she also wanted more. </p><p>She threw her arms around him before she could second guess herself. She turned her face up towards him hoping he would take the hint, and absolutely scandalized at what she was doing. There were people. They could see them. <i>Might as well just wear his jacket like a love sick school girl.</i></p><p>Bucky cupped her face between his hands, running his thumbs over her cheeks in wonder. He kissed her softly. Carefully. He didn't want to scare her off again. </p><p>"Barnes!" There was no mistaking an officer’s bellow.</p><p>Bucky grinned and pressed his forehead against hers. "Sorry Sunshine. I really do have to go. We'll pick this up when I get back."</p><p>And he'd take her dancing. Even if it was just the two of them in a field, and he had to hum every song.</p><p>For a moment she clung to him, revelling in his warm, solid presence. It was always hard to say goodbye to him. Today’s farewell was the hardest yet. <i>I love you</i>. The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she could no more say them aloud than she could fly. “Be careful.”</p><p>“Always.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. October 1- 4, 1943</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">October 1, 1943</span>
  </b>
</p><p>Mortars sounded like thunder all around them, explosions rocking the night, sending out bursts of soil and deadly shrapnel in their wake. Bucky dove into a recently vacated crater, pressing his back firmly against the packed earth as another soldier, who had forgone his helmet in favour of a bowler hat, followed close behind.</p><p>Not for the first time he regretted ever leaving Brooklyn. He definitely regretted leaving camp. <i>Fucking Nazis… </i></p><p>He clutched his rifle like a lifeline.</p><p>“There’s got to be at least five mortar companies out there,” the man in the bowler hat -- Dugan -- shouted over the din.</p><p>“Radio B-company!” Bucky shouted back. “Tell them we need cover!”</p><p>A third man dropped into the pit beside them, his dark skin streaked with dirt and grime. “That might be tough,” Gabriel told them, revealing the broken radio slung at his side. Two bullet holes had shattered the casing.</p><p>“Bucky, behind you!”</p><p>He turned, rifle at the ready to fire at the oncoming soldiers, the rat-tat-tat of the weapons echoing over the explosions that followed. And caught a glimpse of another incoming force racing over the broken ground.</p><p>“Here they come!” He called out, throwing himself across the crater to brace himself for the firefight.</p><p>“I hate these guys,” Dugan grumbled, resettling his bowler on top of his messy blond hair before taking his place beside Bucky.</p><p>Bucky was definitely in agreement. He pressed his mouth in a firm line, his hands steady on his weapon. He hated this, every moment of it. Hated the recoil of the rifle, hated the burn and scent of gunpowder in the air. His mouth was dry as a desert, the metallic taste of fear thick in his throat even as his next shot dropped another enemy soldier. He hated that too. Of all the skills a guy could have, murder was one he wished he’d never discovered. </p><p>A burst of blue had them all recoiling in shock as it flared across the battlefield, disintegrating the men it came in contact with. He froze as more rounds of blue light burst forth, vaporizing a dozen allied soldiers in the space of a few seconds. </p><p>“Get down!” Gabriel cried out, and they ducked just in time to avoid the spray of another mortar shell. Dirt and fragments of shattered metal rained down on them from above.</p><p>Bucky and Dugan peered over the edge of the pit, searching for the source of the attack. That had been… bigger… than the explosions before it.</p><p>“What the hell was that?” Gabriel asked softly.</p><p>The three men rose cautiously from the crater, eyes on the alert for any movement. </p><p>Another trio of blue light bursts fired across the decimated field. </p><p>Dugan, rarely at a loss for words, was the first to respond. “Well that looks… new…” As a massive tank rolled over the hill towards them, towering over the battlefield. </p><p>Bucky gazed upwards as the tank’s turret rotated to point directly at them. “Duck!” He grabbed his companions and dove for the relative safety of the crater as a metallic buzz filled the air, followed by an echoing boom as the tank fired. <i>Fucking Nazis.</i></p><p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">October 3, 1943</span>
  </b>
</p><p>Dawn was practically purring with contentment. For the first time in what felt like months, she was warm all the way to her bones and <i>clean</i> at the same time. She let herself back into the barracks tent with a luxurious stretch. She was more than ready for bed. "I can't believe it. There's never hot water after night shift. But I swear that was the best shower of my life. Before you ask, no Rosie wasn't there, and you're…" Dawn took a better look at her friend. "You're not alright. What happened?"</p><p>"They're not coming back. They… they're…" Ginny’s voice cracked and died before the end of the sentence.</p><p>One look at her friend’s shattered eyes told Dawn all she needed to know. She swayed on the spot as the world tilted painfully off its axis. “They -- what -- what happened?”</p><p>“They -- there was an enemy force moving through Azzano. Some of our men were sent to head them off, but -- “ Her voice cracked and she covered her mouth with her hands, holding back a sob.</p><p>Dawn was at her friend’s side in a moment, dropping down on the cot next to her and pulling Ginny into her arms. “Oh Ginny, I’m so sorry.” Her own heart felt like it had turned to stone in her chest, but this was nothing compared to what Ginny must be feeling. Bucky was a good man, a good friend, and she could not deny that she cared for him deeply. But Ginny had lost her husband, her partner. </p><p>Ginny clung back just as tightly, shaking in her arms as she sobbed. </p><p>Dawn didn’t even try to hide her own tears. She mourned for her friends, for all the lives lost, and the terrible, terrible waste of it all. To never see Jack’s face light up again when he saw Ginny across the camp. Never watch them dance together as if they were the only two people in the world. Never see Bucky’s smile, or his beautiful blue eyes. Never hear him tease her, or hear him laugh when she gave as good as she got. </p><p>	She fisted her trembling hands in the back of her friend’s dress, swallowing past the spiked ball of grief that had taken up residence in her throat. </p><p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">October 4, 1943</span>
  </b>
</p><p>	Somehow the sun still rose in the sky the next day. Dawn awoke grudgingly at the morning wake-up call. There was a part of her that wanted to pull her blanket up over her head and stay in bed forever. She couldn’t feel heartbreak if she was asleep. </p><p>	Beside her, Ginny barely stirred. There were dark shadows on her eyes, tear tracks still staining her cheeks. </p><p>	Dawn slipped silently from the cot to get ready for the day, moving as carefully as she could. She was pinning her wimple in place when Ginny finally opened her eyes. </p><p>	“Hi… “ She said softly. </p><p>	Ginny raised one trembling hand slowly to her face, wiping her eyes. “...hi.” </p><p>	She didn’t ask how her friend was feeling. The love of her life was dead. The life that they had planned together was over before it could even really start. </p><p>	“Do you feel up to working today?” Dawn asked, laying one hand gently on Ginny’s shoulder. She often worked through her stress and her fear as a way to keep her mind off of it. Many of them did. But this… this was different.</p><p>	Ginny shook her head.</p><p>	“Okay. I’ll tell Matron you’re sick. You stay here.” She pulled her coverlet off her bed, sweeping it over the other woman and tucking her in snugly, just as she had that day that she had fallen asleep and Bucky had to carry her back. The pieces of Dawn’s broken heart throbbed at the memory, but she forced it down. She could get through today. She had to. “I’ll come check on you at lunch, okay?”</p><p>	The day passed in a numb sort of blur. Everything felt far away and not particularly real. What was left of the 107th had been brought in that morning. Most had been badly wounded, all with a shadowed kind of terror in their eyes that had not been there before. The experience had shaken them badly. Many refused to talk about it, and those that did… </p><p>	She heard stories of tanks the size of a building, armed with canons that fired beams of blue light that disintegrated whatever they hit on contact. </p><p>	Dawn felt sick at the thought of her Bucky having to face down that kind of nightmare. How terrified he must have been. She pressed her mouth into a firm line, fighting down the tears that stung at her eyes. She couldn’t tell Ginny, not about this. </p><p>	They were too busy for her to take a lunch break. She didn’t mind so much, her own appetite all but non-existent. But Dawn managed to sneak away just long enough to grab some food from the mess to bring for Ginny. Small things, and the best fruit she could find.  Ginny was still asleep when she approached, a still bundle beneath the covers. Dawn deposited the food on the small table shared between them, took a moment to adjust her friend’s blankets, then crept out back to the minor injuries ward. </p><p>The definition of minor had changed a lot in the last few days. Between the remainder of the squads taken by Hydra, and the other attacks that harried their lines, the serious injuries ward was completely full, spilling over into the other wards. The nurses’ workdays became a blur of bandages and battle-wounds.</p><p>	It was helpful, in its way. When you were too busy to sleep, you were also too busy to focus on what you had lost, and what you could have had if only fate had been a little kinder.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. October 7, 1943 & July 19, 1942 & October 11, 1943</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Steve might not have the market on self sacrifice as cornered as he thinks he does. I love you Bucky, but you are an idiot.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">October 7, 1943</span>
  </b>
</p><p>"I swear, if that damn guard pokes me with that stick one more time..." Jack grumbled, glaring through the bars.</p><p>"Your wife will kill you if you die." Bucky groaned, rubbing the bruise on the small of his back. How the guard managed to hit the same spot twice a day for a week was beyond him.</p><p>She would. Which was one of the only things that saved that particular guard from having his mask cracked by Jack’s fists. </p><p>Bucky himself was of a similar mind. It was hard enough to keep the tempers of the men around him from flaring when he wanted to set his own loose. But there was no chance of escape if they were dead. He had no illusions about a rescue attempt. After being marched on a chain-gang into Austria, he had no reason to believe that any help was coming. </p><p>The forced labour in the factory complex was one thing. All of the POWs were of a mind to gather as much information as they could, just in case. And Just In Case is all that was keeping some of them going. They had to believe they could escape. They had to stay alive until they found their opportunity.</p><p>Worse than the forced labour, worse than the rough treatments from the guards, worse than having to sleep in cages like animals at the zoo, was the little round rodent-faced scientist. Bucky had spotted the little man watching them from the walkways up above, gazing down like a farmer looking over his flock, picking which one would be the next up for slaughter. And every few days he would come down to the factory floor, point at a few of their number, and the poor bastards would be dragged away, never to be seen again. </p><p>There were all kinds of rumours spreading between the POWs about what the little man might be doing with them. Was he torturing them for information, or something even more insidious? Some even suggested he was conducting experiments on the men that he took. </p><p>Bucky was inclined to believe just about anything at this point. Something just felt wrong about the man. Something missing in his eyes, something that said he didn’t see any of them as people. They were lab rats, all of them. A means to an end.</p><p>Bucky could only pray those beady little eyes never turned his way.</p><p>
  <i>Hang in there, Sunshine. I'm gonna make it back to you.</i>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">July 19, 1942</span>
  </b>
</p><p>"The Americans have quite the circus going on. Who's the big cheese?" Sally let the tent door flap as she breezed into the room, damp hair wrapped up in a paisley scarf.</p><p>Rosie flipped the page in her magazine. "Some colonel with a special mandate."</p><p>"What colonel gets this kind of treatment? We didn't roll out this kind of red carpet for our own general." Sally scoffed, pulling a half-full bottle of nail polish out of her footlocker. She dropped Ginny's knitting on the floor to free up the good chair and started painting her toes. </p><p>Rosie smirked up from her magazine. She was close with a few of the girls from the secretarial pool. Her camp gossip was always the best and the most accurate. "Apparently it is a very special mandate."</p><p>"The line in the mess is going to be a nightmare." Minnie groaned.</p><p>A voice sounded from the door of the tent. "Well I do hope we're not too much of an imposition."</p><p>"Peggy!" The handful of nurses present cheered when they saw her. Peggy had become quite the favourite the last time she had been with them. It was nice to see her again under better circumstances.</p><p>Peggy smiled and raised the duffle bag she was carrying. "Do you ladies happen to have a spare cot I could commandeer again?"</p><p>"The one next to me is free." Rosie offered cheerfully. Lillian had left months ago, jumping ship for a cushy job at a London hospital and a handsome new English husband from the home office.</p><p>Peggy dropped down on the offered cot, setting the duffle down next to her. It was good to be back in the company of women again. 

</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">October 11, 1943</span>
  </b>
</p><p>It wasn't a good sign that they hadn't been let out of the cages this morning. Every day since they had arrived at the factory the POWs had been dragged out of their cells and put to work as soon as the sun came up. Today their guards had been eerily still. There had been no food. No water. No movement since the shift change almost three hours ago.</p><p>The change in routine had all the men on edge. Change was bad. There was no way the change was because their side had won. So, either their side was losing. Or someone had decided to do something about the prisoners. Hydra didn't seem big on the Geneva Conventions.</p><p>Movement at the far end of the prison sent a ripple through the men. Not a whisper. None of them were bold or stupid enough to actually say anything. None of them needed to say anything. </p><p>Colonel Lohmer had arrived. Commander of the prison camp, he visited sporadically, either here or in the factory itself. His visits almost always ended with one of the men being 'punished' for some infraction either real or made up. Punishment meant being beaten, usually bad enough that the victim couldn't work anymore. Men who couldn't work went to the little scientist, Zola.</p><p>The camp commander ranged up and down in front of the cages, a hungry wolf facing down a flock of sheep. Bucky wanted to disappear into the crowd. Hide behind the shelter of anonymity. Keep his head down. Stay out of trouble. Get through this. He wouldn't move though. They were losing so many men to the commander's whims.  He could take a beating and keep going. He could help protect his guys if he had to. He'd keep his head down for now. Only stick his neck out if he needed to.</p><p>"One of you is stealing food. Whoever tells me who the thief is will get extra rations for a week as a reward." The commander slapped his switch into his hand. <i>Thwack. Thwack. Thwack</i>. "The thief will be punished, as will anyone who shelters him."</p><p>A dozen pairs of eyes flicked towards one of the youngest prisoners. A member of the French resistance, he couldn't be more than 16. They all knew he was starving all the time. He was already suffering in captivity. Growing weak enough that the scientist had started sniffing around.</p><p><i>God damn it. Sorry, Sunshine</i>. Bucky stepped forward. "It was me. Your mother gets hungry after she's done blowing me."</p><p>Just because he was expecting the hands that hauled him out of the cage didn't mean that he was ready for it. Or for what came next.</p><p>Bucky didn't let himself fight back. He'd gotten into enough trouble to know that fighting back would only make them hit harder. He could take the hits. The kid couldn’t. It was as simple as that. But oh, how he wished he had even one hand free. It wasn’t the first time he’d stepped in to defend someone smaller -- in fact, he was pretty sure he spent most of his adolescence and adult life doing exactly that -- but at least then he’d been able to get in a few licks of his own. </p><p>But three against one, beating a bound prisoner? That was just cowardly bullshit. </p><p>He probably shouldn’t have said that out loud.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. July 25, 1942 & October 23, 1943 & November 3, 1943</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">July 25, 1942</span>
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</p><p>It didn't take long for Peggy to become a staple around the nurses’ quarters. The hours she worked were almost as strange as the nurses’. In and out at all times of day and night.</p><p>When she was around, she was always up for a cup of tea, or a quick game of chess, or to act as a shoulder to lean on.</p><p>Dawn thought that their supply of tea was half the reason Peggy had decided to bunk with them. Ginny's mother sent her jars full of herbal teas from her victory garden in every care package. They might not have Red Rose or Imperial, but there was no shortage of chamomile, mint, or blackberry leaf tea for the Moose Tracks nurses. Mother Whitman's medicinal blends tasted world's better than the gunpowder they got in their rations. Better than the 'coffee' that was mostly wheat bran, too.</p><p>She was lucky. Sometimes Dawn’s mother sent her useful things -- a notebook and pens, occasionally some chocolate or cookies. But more often than not, her care packages contained some form of cosmetics. Because apparently even in a warzone a woman should not be seen without her lipstick. Well, at least Dawn could trade them for other things when she needed them.</p><p>Peggy perched herself on the edge of her cot, taking off her shoes with tired movements. "Any chance you can keep this bed open for me? It looks like we are going to be in and out from the front a lot in the next little while."</p><p>Dawn thought getting another nurse to fill out their numbers was a long shot. "Consider it yours."</p><p>"You really are angels." Peggy smiled and laid back.</p><p>She always looked so exhausted after work. Dawn understood that. Being a woman in a man's world was inherently tiring. The nurses saw that, and they were more sheltered than Peggy. If Dawn had a dollar for every time a soldier she was treating asked to talk to a 'real medic'...  She couldn't imagine how much worse it was for Peggy working out there with the men.</p><p>"We've got the kettle on. Do you want a cup of tea?" Rosie asked, taking a jar of dried blackberry leaves and rosehips off a shelf.</p><p>"Could I coax you into adding a splash of something stronger?" Peggy asked, propping herself on an elbow and looking at Ginny hopefully.</p><p>Ginny waved a hand flippantly. "Oh, go on." </p><p>The bottle of whiskey emerged from Ginny's footlocker. All the women not on duty added a splash to their teacups. They spent the rest of the evening laughing and chatting, doing their best to forget the war and enjoy a sense of simple female companionship.</p><p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">October 23, 1943</span>
  </b>
</p><p>"You're going to get yourself killed if you keep pulling this shit." Jack grumbled. Another day, and Bucky had found a new way to antagonize their captors.</p><p>"Better me than one of you married guys." Bucky cradled his dislocated elbow. Colonel Lohmer was dead set on making an example of someone. Bucky was determined that it would be him over any of the others. If being Steve's best friend was good for anything, it was learning how to attract trouble.</p><p>It was working so far. The Colonel was fixated on him. Which was good, it meant he was the only one taking the punishment. It also meant he was taking all the punishment.  The beatings were starting to take a toll. </p><p>Jack snorted and wrapped his hands around Bucky's forearm. "You want me to tell that to Dawn? Deep breath. This is going to hurt."</p><p>"Son of a --" Bucky's vision went white as Jack and Pinky pulled in opposite directions.</p><p>"You're going to have a hard time working tomorrow." Pinky frowned and manipulated Bucky's elbow to make sure it was back in position. It was still excruciating, but Bucky's vision didn't threaten to blank out again, so they must have done something right.</p><p>"I'll be fine." Bucky could picture Dawn's face if she could hear him say that. He wouldn't be able to lift anything with that arm for at least a few days. Two of the fingers on his other hand were broken. His entire left side was a wall of pain. His girl would be livid if she found out he was working like this. </p><p>"We'll cover for you as much as we can." Gabe said leaning in as close as he could from the next cage.</p><p>Bucky knew they would. The harder these damn Hydra Nazi's tried to break them apart, the more the men rallied together. They were more of a unified force now than they had been when they had been captured. Men from disparate countries uniting behind mutual hatred.</p><p>Dugan punched the bars. "He can't keep doing this. Not just to you. To any of us."</p><p>The men in his cage all nodded in agreement.</p><p>Bucky spat on the ground outside his cage. There was more blood in his phlegm than was entirely comforting. "And how exactly are you going to stop him?"</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">November 3, 1943</span>
  </b>
</p><p>Peggy dropped into the seat across from her friends. She had put her work on hold for the morning. It was unlikely anyone would notice. She had news the other women would want to hear. "They might not be dead."</p><p>Dawn looked up. She had been trying to get Ginny to eat at least some of her porridge. No one could live on coffee and cigarettes the way Ginny had been since she had lost Jack. "Who might not be dead?"</p><p>"The 107th and the other Allied squads they were out with. We have intelligence coming back that most of them were captured, not killed. We got the decripts in from London last night. It took me a few hours to confirm things."</p><p>Dawn froze, the hand holding the bowl freezing in mid-air. "Peggy. You could get in so much trouble for telling us that." But if it was true, if they were alive… </p><p>"No one ever notices the women talking, and we need our nursing staff working to the best of their abilities." Peggy said, as if essentially committing treason for her friends was the most natural thing in the world.</p><p>"Thank you. I can't tell you how much it helps. Hope is everything." Ginny said softly.</p><p>For the first time since they had cried together, Dawn saw a spark creep back into her friend's eyes.</p><p>Rosie perked up on the bench next to Peggy. "We should all go to the USO show tomorrow. It will be a good distraction. Keep you from worrying about them. My cousin saw it back in Detroit and she said it was quite the spectacle. The way she tells it, the Captain America Tour is the best show since ‘<i>Hot Rhythm’</i>."</p><p>Peggy made a sour face at the mention of the 'Captain America Tour'. "I may have work to do during the afternoon. War waits for no man."</p><p>"What's wrong, Peggy? You don't like a handsome man in stars and stripes?" There was something almost hopeful in Rosie's question.</p><p>"Actually, I quite like the man in the stars and stripes. I met him while I was in the States and he is lovely. I just don't know that showgirl is the best use of his talents."</p><p>"I don't know that it is the best use of anyone's talents,” Ginny commented dryly. Her hands were jerky as she took the bowl of porridge from Dawn. But she ate with some of her old determination. “But if there are girls in the show to go along with the walking flag, and it sounded like there are, then the men will be singing whatever song they pick up for weeks and you know it will be irritating if we don't know the words."</p><p>Dawn squeezed her friend around the shoulders. "I think that is unhappy-Ginny-speak for ‘we're going’."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. October 30, 1994 & November 4, 1943</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">October 30, 1994</span>
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</p><p>It had taken a week for them to make a plan and get everything they needed into place. It was a truly terrible plan. The kind of plan desperate men dreamed up. They were desperate. Desperate, but with a surprising amount and variety of expertise between the little group of saboteurs they had assembled. </p><p>That didn't mean Bucky had to be happy about playing bait.</p><p>He was undeniably the best candidate. Thanks to his campaign of irritation the camp commander had already started singling him out for special attention. At this point, it was just a matter of making sure that special attention happened out of the view of any other guards.</p><p>It had been surprisingly easy to get the commander on his own. A couple muttered comments from Bucky about how much the Colonel's wife enjoyed visiting him last night and the man had followed Bucky blindly to exactly where they wanted him.</p><p>The catwalk was as out of the way as anything could be in the factory. There were more secluded corners, but the catwalk had one important thing that none of them did. A long straight metal staircase leading back to the factory floor. One that passed over a stack of crates.</p><p>"Impudent swine." The first punch to Bucky's jaw hurt, but he'd had worse. The second to the gut made him want to throw up.</p><p>"Your old lady hit harder." Bucky coughed stumbling backwards.</p><p>The colonel all but picked him up and threw him for that comment. Bucky bounced off the corner of the railing. His foot slipped off the edge of the platform. </p><p>There was a moment when he thought he might be able to regain his balance. Then gravity took over. Bucky forced himself to go limp as he tumbled down the stairs. He still caught his injured elbow hard about half way down. </p><p>He landed hard on his back, sprawled at the bottom of the stairs. </p><p>Out of the corner of his eye he could see Gabe and the Frenchman from the cage across from them -- Jacques -- perched on the crates under the stairs. There were others he knew. Hiding in and around the area in case the initial plan failed.</p><p>Colonel Lohmer advanced menacingly after him, boots heavy on the metal treads. "You will learn your place."</p><p>Bucky didn't move. Partly because he needed to keep the Colonel's attention fixed on him if this plan was going to work. Partly because despite his best efforts the fall had knocked the wind out of him.</p><p>The waiting men pulled an improvised trip wire tight across the stairs. Catching the Colonel across the ankles.</p><p>Bucky thought the sound of Lohmer's neck snapping would stay with him for the rest of his life. Killing someone up close was different from shooting someone. Watching them die inches from your face and knowing that you were the reason they were dead. </p><p>The POWs scattered, leaving the corpse of their tormenter at the bottom of the stairs.</p><p>Bucky was the slowest to move. His limbs felt sluggish with shock, and the tumble down the stairs hadn't done his side any favors. His elbow might be dislocated again too. He was sure at least one of the masked guards who had heard the noise and come to investigate had seen him. </p><p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">November 4, 1943</span>
  </b>
</p><p>Planning to make an afternoon of it, the women had claimed the ledge made by the tracks of a tank. Six of them perched in a neat row. The last time a USO show had visited there had been a carnival air to the whole camp. Today things were more subdued. The men didn't have the same spark of hope Peggy had given the girls yesterday. As a result, there was a cloud of desolation hanging over all of them.</p><p>The show was, not to put too fine a point on it, a complete disaster. The poor man in the suit was heckled almost from the moment he walked on stage. One clever soul even decided to moon him, suggesting that Captain America autograph the pasty white cheeks presented. </p><p>"Well this is devastating to watch. I have filing I could be doing." Ginny hopped off their perch. "Let me know if they start a riot."</p><p>"Oh Steve." Peggy sighed as the girls streamed back onto the stage. It was worse than she had feared.</p><p>Rosie rubbed a circle between Peggy's shoulders. "Sorry sugar. At least he's cute."</p><p>Dawn just cringed in sympathy. She could practically feel the poor man’s humiliation as he retreated off stage. A few months ago, such an act would have been good for a laugh, but with their recent losses…  This is not how she wanted to see the character that Bucky’s friend had created. </p><p>She shoved the feeling down. She couldn’t afford to think of him right now. Not when there was still work to be done. Tonight, when the camp was quiet and her fellow nurses slept, she would page through her journal and remember a man who brought her wildflowers.</p><p>
  
</p><p>★</p><p>"Wait here." They heard Peggy say as she walked into the Minor Injuries ward, and turned to find her crossing the floor with the Captain America performer behind her.</p><p>Turns out that cowl hid a devastatingly handsome face, with fine-cut cheekbones and soulful blue eyes. They could see instantly why he’d become such a stand-out hit back in America.</p><p>"Peggy? What's going on? Why is he here? Did he fall off the stage or something?" Dawn asked. Poor guy. The other soldiers must have eaten him alive. But as she glanced over the man, she didn’t see a mark on him. A lot of muscle, a lot of nerves, but no trace of injury. </p><p>"He's going after the 107th. His best friend was with them." Peggy's eyes were wild, but determined.</p><p>"Oh good. A dead actor is exactly what we need." Ginny snorted. If only it were that easy, she’d have gone after them herself. </p><p>"He's more than an actor,” Peggy reassured them. “He can do it. He can bring them home."</p><p>A strange buzzing rose in the nurse’s ears, the hollow ache that had lived in her chest since her husband was taken throbbed desperately. Ginny stepped forward; hands balled into tight fists. "Margaret Carter. If you are lying to me right now -- "</p><p>"If anyone can rescue them, Steve can,” Peggy promised. She had to believe he could bring them back. Had to believe he would come back. “He's going to bring Sergeant Barnes and the others back if he has to fight half the German army to do it." Would have done it even if he was still small. One thing she had learned about Steven Grant Rogers, he was nothing if not determined.</p><p>Dawn frowned. "What does Bucky have to do with him?"</p><p>"He's my best friend and the only family I have left,” the man answered, turning to face her. “You know Bucky?"</p><p>Ginny eyed Dawn sideways but didn't give her a chance to form her swirling thoughts into coherent words. "He's a friend. How is he getting there?"</p><p>"Stark is here to see the colonel. He has a plane." Peggy answered readily.</p><p>"You get him. We'll get supplies. I think we can do better than --" Ginny snatched Steve's backpack out of his hand. " -- A can of spam and half an egg sandwich? What exactly were you going to do with this?" </p><p>He shrugged sheepishly. “I wasn’t even thinking. I just -- as soon as I learned he’d been taken -- I had to go.” </p><p>Ginny nodded, pulling the sandwich out of the backpack and stuffing it into his hands. “Sit down. Eat your sandwich. We’ll take care of the rest. Dawn -- “</p><p>“Already on it.” She nodded, and dashed off in search of what he would need. </p><p>Her first stop was the quartermaster’s warehouse. They were in need of more supplies for the Minor Injuries Ward anyway, so it was easy enough to add a few extra items to the requisition. </p><p>Her next stop was their own barracks. She’d been squirrelling things away in her footlocker ever since she found out their men might still be alive. For a moment she had entertained the hare-brained idea of going after them herself. She had no combat skill, not the slightest idea where she was going or how to get there, but if she’d thought she could make a difference… </p><p>Dawn shook her head. A foolish idea, as tempting as it was to revisit now. There would be men in need of medical assistance, of that she could be sure, but Rogers should be dedicating his focus to getting their people out, not protecting a stubborn nurse that didn’t belong on the battlefield. </p><p>She would have to distract Ginny in case she'd had any of the same ideas.</p><p>She pulled off her wimple, tucking the stash of bottles and bandages inside, along with the other supplies that she had gathered. Then she ran back to the ward where her friends were waiting.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. November 3, 1943</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">November 3, 1943</span>
  </b>
</p><p>Bucky wasn’t sure how long he’d been there. The last few days had begun to blur together into an endless storm of drugs and pain. He remembered being taken, how the little scientist -- Zola, he knew now -- had pointed at him, and two Hydra thugs grabbed him by the arms to drag him away. He hadn’t even been allowed the dignity of being able to walk to his death on his own two feet. He’d fought them, of course he had, for all the good it had done. Already bruised and beaten, he’d already been deemed unable to work. Fighting off two heavily-armed soldiers on his own had become all but impossible, but he had to try. </p><p>And with each step his hope of escape had grown farther and farther away.</p><p>Because the rumours were right. Zola didn’t care a fig about the allied troops or any information the prisoners could give him. No, what he wanted was results. </p><p>For what, Bucky didn’t know. </p><p>What followed was a brusque kind of physical, recording blood pressure, heart rate, that sort of thing. </p><p>He didn’t remember much after that. </p><p>He remembered pain, and the sound of someone screaming. His throat hurt badly enough that he thought it might be him. But he’d told them nothing. Even through the haze, he knew that much. Just his name and the number stamped on his dog tags -- Barnes, James Buchanan, Sergeant, 32557038.</p><p>In between were periods of blessed unconsciousness. He didn’t know how much time passed then, all he knew is for a little while, nothing hurt. And he could dream. Dreams of a field of wildflowers in high summer, a warm smile, bright blue eyes… </p><p>He was just fading out again when he heard rushed footsteps entering the chamber. Zola, he thought, dimly recognizing the rushed shuffling. But this time the little man did not approach him. He flitted around the room like a panicked mouse, opening and closing drawers, gathering files and bits of paper before racing out of the room again, leaving Bucky alone.</p><p>	Then he heard another set of footsteps enter the room. Heavier, slower. </p><p>	Even half-delirious, Bucky firmed his resolve. He hadn't broken before. He wouldn't break now.</p><p>	“Barnes, James Buchanan, Sergeant, 32557038…”</p><p>	He repeated it over and over, tongue stumbling clumsily over the mumbled words.</p><p>	The figure rushed towards him, and at the sound of his name, he opened his eyes.</p><p>	Leaning above him was a tall man in a battered leather jacket and a helmet that might have been blue in better lighting. </p><p>	Bucky blinked blearily up at him. He knew that face. Why did he know that face?</p><p>	Blue eyes looked down at him in horror as they saw how he’d been strapped down to the table, heavy leather straps binding his wrists and ankles, edges dark with blood from his many attempts to free himself.  </p><p>	“Oh my god!” The man instantly burst into action, undoing the buckles that bound his ankles, then his wrists, and finally the heavy belt that lay across his chest.</p><p>	Oh… now he knew that face. “Is that -- “</p><p>	“It’s me,” the man said desperately. “It’s Steve.”</p><p>	“Steve?” But it couldn’t be Steve. Steve was back in Brookelyn. Steve was safe. Steve was small. Unless… <i>Oh… that explains it.</i> He was dead. He had to be. Of course, they would send an angel that looked like his best friend. There was no one else he could be.  This was Steve in the peak of health, the way he always should have been. Bucky did have some questions about why angel-Steve was wearing army gear though. And what he was wearing under it.</p><p>	This angel-Steve was surprisingly solid, pulling him upright from the table where he’d been for so long, he was sure it would have the imprint of his body on it forever. </p><p>	“Come on.”</p><p>	“Steve -- “ Every movement hurt. Wasn’t the pain supposed to end when you died? </p><p>	Steve glanced over him, laying one hand gently on his cheek before pulling quickly away, relief clear in those familiar eyes. “I thought you were dead.”</p><p>	Bucky blinked at him again, wavering on his feet. Oh. Maybe he was alive after all. His gaze travelled down Steve’s body, from the broad shoulders to his heavily booted feet, and back up to his face. “I thought you were smaller.”</p><p>	The muffled sound of explosiones echoed through the hall. Steve glanced back, then focused on him again. Then his eyes picked up something behind Bucky, and he couldn’t bother to look back to see what it was because he was too busy trying not to fall. </p><p>	As gently as he could, Steve slung one of Bucky’s arms over his shoulders and helped him to stumble out of the lab. “Come on.”</p><p>	Nope, definitely not dead. If he was, he had a complaint to issue to someone upstairs. But he’d save the complaints for later, after they got out of there. And as they hurried out of the lab, one persistent question escaped him. “What happened to you?”</p><p>	He felt more than saw his friend smile. “I joined the army.”</p><p>	The factory was in chaos. As Bucky regained some kind of stability, Steve told him what he’d done -- steal into the facility, release the other prisoners, and instigate a riot. But Bucky was more worried about Steve and his transformation. “Did it hurt?”</p><p>	“A little,” he admitted. Which was Steve-speak for ‘a whole hell of a lot’. The little punk never would admit to being hurt, even after yet another attempt to face down some big bruiser that was double his size. </p><p>	Well, least the odds were a little more even now. It just figured that the moment Steve got big he’d set his sights on fighting an entire damn army.</p><p>	“Is it permanent?” He wondered.</p><p>	Steve shrugged again. “So far.”</p><p>	Just then, a series of explosions rocked the factory floor. Steve and Bucky emerged from the corridor onto one of the gridiron catwalks that overlooked the production floor to see the entire thing in flames. There would be no getting out the front door this time. </p><p>	They ducked, recoiling from another blast that sent a gout of searing flame high into the air. </p><p>	They’d have to go higher.</p><p>	With Steve in the lead, they raced up the metal stairway to the third level, where a catwalk crossed to the other side.</p><p>	Then a voice called out from the other side. Heavy, German, familiar.</p><p>	Bucky’s blood ran cold. </p><p>	There, across the catwalk, was a tall man in a long, leather coat. Even in the flickering light, they could make out his sharply sculpted features, and the dark hair swept back from a widow’s peak. Bucky thought his name might be Schmidt. Beside him was Zola, his tweed suit covered by a wool coat. Bucky's heart sped up at the sight of him.</p><p>	“Captain America, how exciting!” The man’s voice boomed over the crackling flames. “I am a great fan of your films.”</p><p>	He moved closer, stepping onto the catwalk as Steve moved to join them. Bucky stumbled forward to pull Steve back, but he could barely stand, let alone restrain the wall of muscle that his friend had become. </p><p>	“So, Doctor Erskine managed it after all,” the man in the leather coat mused. “Not exactly an improvement, but still, impressive.”</p><p>	Steve didn’t even bother to reply. Instead he strode forward and immediately plowed his fist into Schmidt’s face.</p><p>	Bucky couldn’t help but smile a bit as the man fell back a few paces. Yep, that was definitely Steve.</p><p>	“You’ve got no idea.”</p><p>	Schmidt’s hand came to his jaw, rubbing it contemplatively. Then he straightened. “Haven’t I?” He stepped forward, swinging his fist towards Steve in return.</p><p>	He was prepared for the hit, raising the shield he carried to intercept the blow. What he wasn’t prepared for was for Schmit to strike with such force that he left a clear imprint of his knuckles in the solid metal sheet. Steve straightened, hand moving for the pistol at his right side, but Schmidt was faster, lashing out to punch Steve right in the face, knocking him onto his back, the pistol in his hand skittering across the metal walkway to fall into the flames.</p><p>	Schmidt strode forward purposefully, intent on the man before him, but Steve lashed out again, planting both booted feet against Schmidt’s chest and kicking him back. </p><p>	As both men got to their feet, the walkway began to creak, separating down the middle. Zola, it seemed, had pulled the lever that activated the retraction. Schmidt turned to send the little man a withering look that would have peeled paint, unhappy that their confrontation had been interrupted. </p><p>	“No matter what lies Erskine told you,” Schmidt called across the divide. “You see, I was his greatest success!” The crackling light from below flickered across his face, making him look more than a little demonic, the appearance not helped by the ring of bloody red that now encircled his eyes. He reached into his collar and tugged, and when he did, his face came free like a Halloween mask, revealing a gleaming red skull beneath, muscle and tendon somehow fused together like a second skin beneath the first.</p><p>	Bucky stared in horror, unsure that he had really just seen what had happened, or if it was a nightmarish hallucination. “You don’t have one of those, do you?” He asked softly. He hoped not. He liked Steve with his face on.</p><p>	Numbly, Steve shook his head.</p><p>	“You are deluded, Captain,” Schmidt continued. “You pretend to be a simple soldier, but in reality, you are just afraid to admit that we have left humanity behind.” As if to further illustrate his point, he cast what remained of his human face into the fire below. Then he turned, joining Zola by the door that led to the far elevator. “Unlike you, I embrace it proudly. Without fear.”</p><p>	“Then how come you’re running?” Steve asked as the men stepped through the door.</p><p>	Bucky shook his head, but the very movement left him dizzy. Trust Steve to want to fight a walking nightmare when the building they were in was burning down around them.</p><p>	Schmidt did not answer, only stepped into the elevator with Zola and closed the door between them just as one of the machines below exploded.</p><p>	This, at least, seemed to shake Steve out of his shock. He had to get them out of there. He glanced around, searching for another exit, his eyes falling upon a thick girder one more floor above them. It was the only way left across. </p><p>	“Come on,” he said, guiding Bucky towards the stairs. “Let’s go. Up.”</p><p>	He raced up the stairs, Bucky clambering close behind. </p><p>	The girder was steady, solid enough for a heavy pulley to be mounted to the underside. It would carry their weight. It had to.</p><p>	“One at a time,” Steve instructed, keeping Bucky steady as he climbed slowly over the railing. </p><p>
  
</p><p>	Bucky pressed his mouth into a firm line, gaze intent as he inched his way across the gantry. His legs shook with every step but he pressed on. Another explosion shook the beam beneath him, connecting rivets rattling free to fall into the roaring flames below. The beam jerked beneath him, dropping several inches under his feet. He barely managed to keep himself upright. Then the beam made a mighty creak, and with a desperate burst of speed, Bucky sprinted the remaining distance, throwing himself onto the railing as the girder collapsed beneath his feet, leaving Steve stranded on the other side. </p><p>	Bucky swung himself over the railing and clung to it, panting, glancing between his best friend and the burning factory floor between them. “There has to be a rope or something!”</p><p>	“Just go!” Steve shouted, waving him away. “Get out of here!” There was no other way, he could see that now. But he’d gotten Bucky out. Freed the other soldiers. He’d accomplished what he’d come here to do. And if this was the price he paid to do it, so be it.</p><p>	Bucky could see it in his friend’s eyes, the resignation. And refused to accept it. “No! Not without you!” If Steve wasn’t going to leave this factory, then neither would he. <i>I’m sorry, Sunshine.</i> She would understand. There was no way she would leave her friends behind either.</p><p>	Steve glanced around, looking for something, anything he had missed. Then shook his head as an absolutely mad idea filled him. He reached forward, twisting the railing in front of him away to give him space to move, then retreated to the far end of the platform, bracing his hands on the metal rails that framed it. </p><p>	Bucky could do nothing but watch in helpless disbelief as his friend steadied himself. Surely Steve wasn’t going to do what he thought he was going to do. No human could make that jump. But then he remembered Schmidt. Maybe Steve’s transformation had made him more than human too. Bucky could only pray it would be enough.</p><p>	He could see the moment that Steve decided to jump. That helpless shrug right before he launched himself forward to fly over the flames. </p><p>	For a moment it seemed he wouldn’t make it, and then a solid figure crashed into the railing right in front of Bucky. He reached out instinctively, grabbing the sleeves of Steve’s jacket to anchor him as he climbed over the railing. For a moment they clung to each other, trembling with shock. </p><p>	He’d done it. Through some fucking miracle, he’d actually done it. </p><p>	But there was no time to celebrate, as they were well reminded as two more heavy machines exploded below. They had to go. </p><p>	Not trusting the elevator, they raced for the stairs, skipping whatever number they could until they reached the ground level. Someone had sealed the door to the production floor, protecting the lower hallway from the destruction. Or the explosions at least. But it was clear that the lower floors had still been home to some serious combat. There were bodies scattered over the floor, most in the black uniforms of Hydra soldiers, but a few that they recognized as escaped POWs. </p><p>	They couldn’t stop, so matter how badly they wanted to. Racing through the halls, at last they burst through a door to the outside. There they paused, sagging briefly against the concrete wall as the door slammed shut behind them. They did it. They were out.</p><p>	Bucky slid down the wall to sit on the cold ground and scrubbed his hands over his face. His aching body still shook with the rush of adrenaline but he hardly even noticed. He was free. He was free and he was alive and Steve was here and he was strong and healthy and amazing. </p><p>	He didn’t even notice the tears of relief streaming down his face, and Steve, bless him, didn’t mention them. Just sat beside him, leaning against him in the dark as the freed allied soldiers started on a final sweep of the grounds. </p><p>	"We gotta move, Buck. We're too exposed and the others are waiting."</p><p>	Right, waiting. They weren’t safe yet. Wouldn’t be until they passed back into Allied Territory. "Yeah. Give me a sec." </p><p>	It took more effort than he wanted to admit, to finally pull himself to his feet, when all he wanted to do was curl up in a corner and sleep forever. It was a fight, and certainly not a graceful one, but eventually Bucky was able to haul himself upright. <i>Coming Sunshine. God help me, but I'm coming.</i></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. November 4- 15, 1943</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The boys are coming home! ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">November 4, 1943</span>
  </b>
</p><p>Bucky leaned heavily against a tree trunk. Two hours forced march and he was ready to drop. He was doing better than he had any right to be, considering he had no idea when the last time he'd eaten was, and he'd definitely been electrocuted yesterday. Was that yesterday? But he was still struggling. He was going to have a hard time if they had to keep up this pace on foot, and he wasn't the only one. They had all been on short rations for too long to have much stamina left. "Tell me you have a plan to get us the rest of the way out of here."</p><p>Steve pulled out the receiver Peggy had given him. Flipping it over in the air proudly. "We've got a ride."</p><p>A bullet whistled out of the darkness.</p><p>Bucky swore and snatched a rifle from the man next to him. He fired back, dropping the three Hydra troopers that stormed through the trees.</p><p>Steve picked up the shattered transmitter.</p><p>Bucky looked between the broken electronics and his friend’s crestfallen face. How many times had he seen that exact face after one of Steve's plans went sideways? His reaction was almost instinct. "You fucking idiot."</p><p>The familiar refrain jerked Steve out of his panic spiral. "Keep talking like that and I'm going to let someone else walk next to me."</p><p>"Maybe I don't want to walk next to you." Bucky didn't like how much this felt like old times. Steve getting them into a mess. The two of them fighting their way out. He'd take responsibility since he was the one who'd been captured, but Steve was two feet taller and built like a brick wall all of a sudden, so he felt like he was off the hook.</p><p>He was not looking forward to walking out of here.</p><p>Steve patted Bucky on the shoulder. With Bucky at his back, he could do anything. "Yeah you do."</p><p>"Yeah, I do,” He admitted, sighing and shaking his head. “We're not done talking about whatever happened to you."</p><p>"Never thought we were." Steve groaned, cracking his neck.</p><p>"Are all Americans insane?" One of the men -- Falsworth, they thought his name was? -- asked under his breath.</p><p>Jack shook his head and shouldered one of the blue glowing rifles. "I think they might be a special kind of insane."</p><p>Steve squared his shoulders. He was Captain America. Time to act like it. "Alright men. Looks like we're walking home from Austria. Everybody fall in around the tank.  I want those weapons distributed as evenly as possible. Pick a buddy and stick with them. We'll do roll-call once we make the far side of the road. Least injured men take weapons and and hold the rear. I don't think I need to tell you to fire at will, but fire at will."</p><p>Despite his early protest, Bucky fell into step tight behind Steve's left shoulder. There was something very right about Steve at the head of a column. Like it was where he had always belonged. But there was no way Bucky was going to leave him up there alone. Every great Captain needed a right-hand man.</p><p>
 
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">November 15, 1943</span>
  </b>
</p><p>It had been days since Rogers had set out to rescue their men, and still there had been no word. Peggy had been keeping them updated as best she could, but there was only so much that she could tell them. The factory complex where the prisoners had been kept was abandoned, and aerial surveillance had told them that it had been the site of combat, but what that meant for their men, they didn’t know. </p><p>They could have been lost to the fighting, could have been taken elsewhere in the chaos and their people would never know. </p><p>Ginny had been doing all she could to keep busy, to keep her mind off of the torture of waiting for word. The surgery, the barracks, and the wards had never been cleaner. And if Matron or the other medical staff noticed the manic look in her eyes, they said nothing. </p><p>She should have gone with Rogers. There’s no way one man could accomplish such a rescue on his own. Even if by some miracle he had gotten them out, there was bound to be casualties. She could have helped. Would know for sure what had happened to her husband instead of being stuck here, waiting for word and slowly going insane.</p><p>She only half-heard the commotion outside, but paid it little mind. She’d heard that the reinforcements they had been promised would be arriving today. This must be the sound of their arrival. She heard something about them bringing a tank. That was good. Rumour had it that the engine on one of theirs was completely shot. Not literally, thankfully, but an inoperable tank was little use to them here. But as the din outside only grew, she realized that something bigger must be happening.</p><p>An attack? No, the nurses would be among the first to be warned.</p><p>The bubble of hope that had formed in her chest when Peggy had told her that her husband might still be alive gave a mighty throb, growing inside until it was almost suffocating. <i>Jack -- </i></p><p>She burst from the tent, grabbing the sleeve of the first person she saw. “What is it?” She demanded. “What’s happening?”</p><p>He didn’t even have time to answer as Dawn ran by, grabbing her friend’s hand and tugging her towards the edge of camp where a crowd was gathering. "It's them."</p><p>Ginny’s heart raced in her chest as their feet flew over the packed ground.  Her pulse drowned out the roar of the crowd.</p><p>She spotted Jack before he saw her. At that point Dawn's hand stopped being a grounding force and started feeling like an anchor. She dropped her friend’s hand and launched herself at her husband.</p><p>Jack turned like he sensed her. His arms went around her and he crushed her into his chest. "I'm here, love. I came back. I could never leave you."</p><p>Ginny closed her eyes and sobbed against Jack's neck. Soon she would have to put on a determined face and get back to work. There were injured men. It would be all hands on deck in the infirmary. Right now, though she needed a minute to just be a relieved wife. Her husband was alive, and he had come back to her. Barnes and Rogers, those idiot Americans had brought him back to her. <i>Oh damn, I'm going to have to be nice to them now.</i></p><p>★</p><p>Dawn hung back as the Colonel approached, Peggy hot on his heels. She couldn’t very well throw herself at Bucky like she was dying to, not with Colonel Phillips only two feet away. But he was there. He was alive. And he was home. His face was shadowed by weeks’ worth of beard, and she could clearly see the livid bruise over one cheekbone. Actually, he seemed to be favouring his entire left side. And then his gaze met her and she was unable to think of anything at all. She beamed at him, eyes stinging with tears as he smiled back at her.</p><p>At last, <i>at last,</i> Phillips dismissed Rogers, deciding quite wisely that returning to camp with two hundred rescued Allied POWs more than made up for flouting the orders that he had been given. </p><p>And as Peggy approached Steve to reprimand him for being late, Dawn finally pushed through the crowd towards Bucky. To hell with protocol, to hell with appearances. She threw her arms around him, fisting her hands in his tattered green undershirt, revelling in the solid heat of him. She’d dreamed of this a hundred times since he’d been taken, but at last, at last he had come back to her. </p><p>After a moment, Dawn forced herself to pull away, sniffling.</p><p>Bucky gently brushed the tears from her eyes, keeping one arm slung around her shoulder. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think maybe you might have missed me.”</p><p>She swatted at him with a watery chuckle. “Of course, I missed you, you jerk.”</p><p>“All thanks to this idiot,” he answered, jerking his head towards Steve. Who, come to think of it, was due to some good-natured ribbing. “Hey!” He called, his voice ringing out over the crowd. “Let’s hear it for Captain America!”</p><p>And laughed as the entire camp took up the cheer.</p><p>★</p><p> "The doctors are swamped,” Bucky argued. “I'm just taking up a bed. I'm fine. I need a shower and a good night's sleep, and I'll be ready to go."</p><p>Dawn pushed him back onto the hospital cot he was trying to escape. He wasn't <i>wrong</i>. The doctors were swamped. That didn't mean she was going to let him leave. She hated to even think it, but she cared more about him than about the rest of the captured men. “What you need is to stay there and not aggravate your injuries any further.”</p><p>“Come on, Sunshine, I’m not badly hurt, I promise.” Bucky wheedled. He'd had enough of hospitals to last a lifetime. This one was worlds better, but he still wanted out.</p><p>Dawn crossed her arms over her chest. “Is this like when you got yourself ‘a little bit shot’?”</p><p>“I could have taken care of it,” he insisted. “It really wasn’t that bad.”</p><p>Dawn bit her lip and glanced towards Minnie, who had been watching the exchange. She wasn't winning this argument. She needed the big guns. "Don't let him leave."</p><p>She turned back to Bucky, stabbing him in the chest with a finger. "If you so much as think about leaving this bed before I get back, I will never speak to you again."</p><p>Luckily for her, the big guns were not far away. Steve, having presented his report of the events following his rogue departure to the Colonel, was hovering outside the tent. If a man that was 6’2” and 200 pounds of muscle could be said to hover. </p><p>“Captain! Just the man I was looking for.” She reached out and before he could even react, she grabbed his jacket and pulled him inside. </p><p>“What is it?” He asked. “What’s wrong? Is it Bucky? Is he -- “</p><p>“He’s refusing to stay in bed,” Dawn answered, tugging him towards the cot where Minnie was standing guard. </p><p>Steve immediately turned a concerned gaze on his friend. “Bucky -- “</p><p>“I’m fine!” He insisted. <i>Damn those blue eyes</i>. And now there were two sets trained on him. </p><p>“You were captured by Hydra and -- and -- who knows what they did to you!” Dawn was starting to feel a little hysterical from having to repeat the point.</p><p>Bucky reached out, taking her hand in one of his and smiled reassuringly at her. “I’m fine, doll. I promise. Fit as a fiddle. I even walked all the way back from Austria without tripping once.”</p><p>“Liar!” Steve laughed. “You stumbled over a branch two days out and almost landed in a ditch.”</p><p>The look of utter betrayal on Bucky’s face in response to his friend’s teasing was downright comical, and Dawn had to fight to keep a serious expression on her face. "If you won't wait for a doctor, will you at least let Ginny check you over? If she says you're fine to leave I'll walk you over to the mess myself."</p><p>"Why does this feel like a trap?"</p><p>★</p><p>It felt like a trap because it was a trap. Busy as they were, Dawn wasn't convinced the doctors would give Bucky a thorough physical. They would probably rush through and trust his answers, and he would bluff about how good he was feeling to get out of the hospital. And that she couldn’t allow. Ginny wouldn't rush, and wouldn't let him pull the wool over her eyes. Dawn stood stoically next to Steve as Bucky winced his way through what had to be one of the most thorough examinations of his life as Ginny poked and prodded, looking for sore spots. <i>I'm sorry, love. You'll thank me when you don't drop dead somewhere.</i></p><p>"You have a concussion, a dislocated elbow that my beloved did a terrible job resetting, and at least two fractured ribs. I'm pretty sure you're lying to me about how much your cheek hurts and your suborbital is broken too, not just bruised, but I can't do anything about that out here anyway so I'm not going to fight you on it." Ginny said, standing up and passing the clipboard she’d been writing on to Dawn. "Bed rest for at least three days. And you should be re-examined then to see if it needs to be extended."</p><p>Steve glanced over at the clipboard in Dawn’s hands. "Did she sign this ‘Dr. Jacob Jones’?"</p><p>" ... She might have." Dawn hurriedly hung the clipboard back on the end of the bed. "Point is, Bucky isn't going anywhere for a couple of days."</p><p>"Where are you going with my boots, Sunshine?"</p><p>Dawn didn’t even pause as she pulled them away from the cot. "They are completely trashed. I'll get you new ones from the quartermaster."</p><p>"Today?" Bucky pointedly ignored Steve mouthing '<i>Sunshine?</i>' over Dawn's shoulder.</p><p>"A large group of prisoners of war were recently returned to our camp. The hospital and the quartermaster are both swamped. It might take a couple of days." She told him without even a trace of guilt. It would take her three days, to be precise.</p><p>Bucky hooked an arm around Dawn's waist and pulled her into his lap. She felt light as a baby bird. Maybe he wasn't the only one who had gone short on food the last little while. "I promise I will stay right here. If only to make sure you take a break. Now give me back my shoes."</p><p>"Don't be an idiot. Listen to the nurses." Steve patted Bucky warmly on the shoulder. "I'm going to let you rest. Talk to you tomorrow."</p><p>There was a scuffle while Steve tried to mess Bucky's hair and Bucky tried to fend him off without dislodging Dawn. It ended with both of them grinning like schoolboys. They exchanged one more clasp of each other's forearms before Steve squared his shoulders and strode out of the tent, every inch the captain.</p><p>Dawn watched the broad back disappear from the tent. There was more there than just best friends. "He's your Rosie."</p><p>"I…" Bucky didn't know why he was denying it, not to Dawn. If anyone would understand, it was his girl. "Yeah. He kind of is."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. November 18- 30, 1943</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">November 18, 1943</span>
  </b>
</p>
<p>Dawn wasn't supposed to be working right now. She'd been in surgery most of the night. Matron had sent her to bed with instructions to sleep until lunchtime. She couldn't resist checking on Bucky first. She wanted to see him, touch him. Know that he was really back. Really safe. She slipped quietly through the back of the tent.</p>
<p>Her heart lightened at the sight of him. He was sitting up in bed, hands resting on the scratchy green blanket. He looked so much better than he had when he had first returned. She had worried that Ginny's three days’ bed rest wouldn't be enough, but he was recovering remarkably well. She had a perfect view of his profile as he watched the main entrance to the hospital. The bruise on his cheek was almost completely healed. She wondered if Steve had just left or if he was waiting for someone. For her.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Then he turned, dropping his eyes to his hands resting in his lap. His expression was dark and stormy. His jaw clenched tight.</p>
<p>She hurried to his side. "What's wrong? You look upset. Ginny said you were fine, but if something hurts I can get the doctor."</p>
<p>"No. Nothing like that." Bucky caught her hand and pulled her closer to his cot. "Sit with me for a second."</p>
<p>Dawn perched herself on the edge of the cot, cradling his hand between both of hers.</p>
<p>The silence lingered for long seconds, Dawn growing more anxious the longer it went on. "Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?"</p>
<p>"I'm going." He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. He wished he could stay here. Or take her with him. Or better yet, take her home. Dawn was such a perfect name for her. She was a sunrise of a person. Warm, bright, and a perfect reminder that there really was good in this world and they needed to fight to protect it. He wouldn't let anything jeopardise his Sunshine.</p>
<p>"Of course, you are. You were captured. It was weeks— " Dawn's voice cracked. She couldn't say it. Couldn't even think about it. "They have to let you go home. You've done your bit."</p>
<p>Bucky shook his head. "I'm not going home. I'm going with Steve."</p>
<p>One of the lights in the surgery had short-circuited once. Dawn had brushed a finger against the wire trying to fix it. That was what this felt like. Pure electric panic. She couldn't move couldn't even think. </p>
<p>"Can I write you?" It almost felt silly to ask. They had been doing this flirting thing for almost a year, he hadn't even looked at another girl since their first dance and he thought she felt the same.</p>
<p>"No." Dawn pulled her hand out of his. It was too hot. It was burning her.</p>
<p>The word felt like a slap to the face. No. Bucky had been slapped. This was worse. </p>
<p>"Dawn. Please. Let me write." Bucky was begging. He didn't think he'd ever begged a girl for anything. Dawn wasn't just any girl. He'd get down on his knees if that's what she needed. "It doesn't have to be anything more if you don't want to be. You don't have to call me your beau or make any promises. You don't even have to write back. But tell me I can write to you. Tell me I can make you smile, even if I'm not the only one."</p>
<p>Dawn refused to look at him. She knew that the sadness in those blue eyes could break her. "Maybe you aren't the only one who can make me smile. But you are the only one that's ever made me cry. I can't do it again Bucky. I couldn't take it. If the letters stopped…"</p>
<p>There was a lump in Bucky's throat. He thought it was his heart trying to escape. He reached for her hand again. She was slipping away. Like the sun slipping behind a cloud. "Dawn."</p>
<p>She ran. Dawn wasn't proud of it. It wasn't the kind of goodbye either of them deserved. But she wasn't brave. She couldn't be strong for both of them. She had to be strong for herself.</p>
<p>"Dawn!"</p>
<p>Bucky stumbled to the door of the tent. The packed dirt road outside was empty. "Dawn!"</p>
<p>He let one of the other nurses guide him back to his bed in a daze. <i>Way to go, Barnes. Very smooth. </i></p>
<p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">November 19-30, 1943</span>
  </b>
</p>
<p>She wrote to him anyway. Short notes, long missives, whatever she was thinking about, whenever she was thinking about him, written in her notebook or on any scrap bit of paper she could find. She told him about her day, asked him where he had been, what he wanted to do when he got home. Most went unfinished.</p>
<p>All of them went unsent. Folded up and tucked into her footlocker instead.</p>
<p>★</p>
<p>
  <i>Dear Bucky,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I’m sorry I ran away. You deserve better than that. And it was an insult <strike>to our relationship. our friendship.</strike></i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>This was what I was most afraid of when the war started. Losing people I loved. And when I came here I found I had so much more to lose. Especially once I met you. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Losing you once almost broke me, and the day you came back was one of the best days of my life. But I can’t go through that again. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>If the war was over it would be different. But I can’t do this knowing that any moment you could be taken away. </i>
</p>
<p>★</p>
<p>
  <i>Dear Bucky,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>It’s snowing today. It would be nice if we could wear trousers like you boys. Dresses are not practical in the snow. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Some of the boys started a snowball fight this morning. I wish you were here to join them.</i>
</p>
<p>★</p>
<p>
  <i>Dear Bucky, </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I miss you. </i>
</p>
<p>★</p>
<p>
  <i>Dear Bucky, </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I still have the flower you gave me that morning. I keep it pressed in my journal. This morning I took it out and thought of you.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Where are you now? I hope it’s warmer than it is here. We had ice on the wash basin this morning.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>It may be too much to hope that you are safe but I hope it anyway.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I know you are there to watch Steve’s back, and I hope the rest of the team watches yours. They seem like good men. </i>
</p>
<p>★</p>
<p>
  <i>Dear Bucky, </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Ginny was down with a cold today. Stubborn dear wanted to keep working and it took an order from Matron to keep her in her cot. </i>
</p>
<p>★</p>
<p>
  <i>Dear Bucky, </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>One of the girls got a Captain America comic as a birthday gift. Did you know you’re in them now too?</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Do you really wear the red tights and the mask? I’d like to see that. I’m sure you look very mysterious. </i>
</p>
<p>★</p>
<p>
  <i>Dear Bucky,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Please be safe.</i>
</p>
<p>★</p>
<p>
  <i>Dear Bucky,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>My sister’s beau has returned from the front. His plane was shot down over France, and he was lucky enough to walk away. Well, not walk away, as his leg was broken in two places. But he is alive, and he is back in Canada. Actually he’s at the same hospital I was originally going to work at. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>He and Willa have been writing every day. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I’m glad that they are happy. </i>
</p>
<p>★</p>
<p>
  <i>Dear Bucky,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Do you get any free time in London between missions?</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Have you had time to visit the British Museum? I’d love to see it someday. Maybe when the war is over, you can give me a tour before we go home. </i>
</p>
<p>★</p>
<p>
  <i>Dear Bucky,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I dreamed of you last night. It was spring, and the fields were full of wildflowers instead of army tents. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I wish I knew where you were. I would send you the first wildflower of spring. You deserve something beautiful. </i>
</p>
<p>★</p>
<p>
  <i>Dear Bucky,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I wish I could have gone with you. I don’t know if I’m brave enough or strong enough to fight, but I’d have tried. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I miss you. I hope you’re safe.</i>
</p>
<p>★</p>
<p>
  <i>Dear Bucky,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I got a letter from my father today. He’s in Austria right now. He sounds tired. I wonder if you’ve ever crossed paths. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>He’d like you, I think. It’s hard not to like you. </i>
</p>
<p>★</p>
<p>
  <i>Dear Bucky,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Can Steve really bench-press a jeep?</i>
</p>
<p>★</p>
<p>
  <i>Dear Bucky,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I went to a dance with some of the girls last night. It wasn’t the same without you. </i>
</p>
<p>★</p>
<p>
  <i>Dear Bucky,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>They’ve sent us a few more nurses. They seem so young. I think they may be even more scared than I was.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>It’s funny what you can get used to. If you’d asked me five years ago if I could become accustomed to living in a tent, to the dirt and the blood and the fear, I’d have laughed. But time here has made me braver. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>You made me braver. Well, you and Ginny. I don’t know how I’d have survived this without you.</i>
</p>
<p>★</p>
<p>
  <i>Dear Bucky,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I miss home. It’s been so long it almost feels like life before the war was a strange sort of dream. </i>
</p>
<p>★</p>
<p>
  <i>Dear Bucky,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I love you. </i>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. December 7, 1943- January 6, 1944</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">December 7, 1943</span>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Bucky leaned heavily on the bar, pressing his glass to the side of his face. The problem with the English serving their drinks warm, was it did nothing to soothe his bruised jaw. </p>
<p>He had earned the punch to the face. But that didn't make it hurt any less. The red head he'd been flirting with had been cute. She had also obviously been taken. He could have just danced with her and left it at that. But he had teased, and flattered, coaxed, and insisted on buying her drinks, until her boyfriend had had no choice but to come over and deck him.</p>
<p>"You're off your game, pal.” Steve commented, clapping Bucky on the shoulder. Something had been off about his friend for weeks now, and it hurt him to see. “First Peggy, now this. It's like you don't want the pretty girls to like you."</p>
<p>"Why would they?" Bucky grumbled, taking a long draft of his whiskey soda. It still tasted good at least.</p>
<p>Why wouldn’t they? Bucky had never had a problem with women, something that Steve had often envied when they were younger. What had happened to shake his friend’s easy confidence? "Whatever happened to that nurse? The Canadian one?"</p>
<p>"Nothing,” Bucky answered, maybe a little too quickly. “She… she didn't want to stay in touch. Something about being too busy to be a good pen pal. There's this war. see."</p>
<p>"Did you want to be her pen pal?"</p>
<p>Bucky sighed into his nearly empty glass. "I don't know what I wanted from her."</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">January 6, 1944</span>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Dear Dawn</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I know you said not to write, <strike>but I can't get you out of my head.</strike> But I didn't want to leave things the way we did. <strike>You broke my heart. I broke your heart.</strike> Our time together was too important for it to all get written off cus of one silly fight. <strike>I love you.</strike> I never wanted to make you cry.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i><strike>The next time I see you. If I see you.</strike> Someday, I hope you can forgive me. I don't think I made the wrong choice. We are doing important work. But I see how my decision hurt you. I had to do this. <strike>To keep you safe.</strike> We're going to end this war and make sure you can go home safe.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I miss you, Dawn. I've slept in a real bed five times this month and I would give it up and sleep in the mud every night if it meant I got to see your smile when I woke up. <strike>I love you. I need you. I dream about you most nights. </strike> There's no one to flirt with over breakfast. The good news is I don't have to share my apples anymore. But I miss laughing with you. I miss your smiles. <strike>Kissing you.</strike></i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>There are so many things I wish I could ask you. Are you sleeping well? Are you warm? Did they ever fix the leak in the surgery or does someone still have to hold up a bowl when it rains? <strike>Do you miss me?</strike></i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I can't tell you what I'm doing, but know that my team is good. I'd trust these guys with more than my life. <strike>I'd trust them with yours.</strike> I'm as safe as I can be. Don't worry about me, Sunshine. Don't be scared.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <strike>I love you</strike>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <strike>I miss you</strike>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Thinking of you, </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Your Bucky</i>
</p>
<p>★</p>
<p>Bucky crumpled up the piece of paper and tossed it into the crackling fire. Nothing he wrote was good enough. He just couldn't find the right words to say what he felt.</p>
<p>Steve lowered himself to the ground next to Bucky. "Sun's going to be up soon."</p>
<p>"Yeah." Bucky sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.</p>
<p>Steve deliberately didn't look at Bucky. He prodded a crumbling log with a stick instead. "Did you get any sleep?"</p>
<p>"Couple hours." Bucky shrugged and shoved his notebook back into his pack. When he slept, he either had nightmares about what had happened, or he saw Dawn. Neither was particularly restful.  </p>
<p>"Gonna be ready?" This time Steve let his eyes flick to Bucky. Bucky got it. They were best friends. That didn't mean Steve was going to put the rest of his team at risk if Bucky was off his game.</p>
<p>Bucky watched the last fragments of the letter curl to ash. Dawn thought he had chosen this over her. The truth was he'd chosen this because of her. She was so scared, but she never gave up. He could do this. He could protect his best friend and make a world where Dawn didn't have to be afraid. "Always."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. February 19- March 9, 1944</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">February 19, 1944</span>
  </b>
</p><p>It was dark when the Howling Commandos stumbled into the Allied camp. Their raid on the Hydra factory in Poland had been a success, but Bucky was getting a little tired of tramping cross country to get back to the Allied lines after every mission. He was so exhausted that he didn't even know whose camp they were in. He glanced up at the flagpole and froze.</p><p>He stared at the two softly waving flags. One red with the Union Jack in the top corner. The other green with a red leaf and crossed sword on it. How many times had he seen that pair of flags last year? </p><p>Too many. </p><p>Pretty much any time he went looking for trouble. </p><p>No. He hadn't been looking for trouble. He'd been looking for her.</p><p>"I'm… I'm going to go get my ankle checked out. Turned it on a root a while ago. 's a little tender."</p><p>Steve glanced up at the flags. That explained why Bucky was acting strange. "Sure Buck. We'll see you in the mess for dinner."</p><p>Steve set a hand on Pinky's shoulder and hustled him away before he could ask why Bucky hadn't said anything earlier. This wasn't an indictment of their medic. This was Bucky figuring out what he needed.</p><p>★</p><p>It was a good thing the Canadians had the same camp layout no matter where they were. Bucky was paying more attention to who was around than where he was going. Dawn had to be here somewhere. He just had to find her. He spotted her coming out of the hospital main tent. Her wimple already off, hair shining in the lamplight. "Sorry to bother you, sister."</p><p>Dawn froze. She wasn't supposed to hear that voice again. Maybe in her dreams, but not in real life. Not here.</p><p>"I just had a medical problem I wanted someone to take a look at." Bucky took a few slow steps towards her.</p><p>"I… I'm actually just finishing my shift. So, you'll have to ask one of the other girls, or Corporal Montgomery's just inside if you ask…" Dawn trailed off at the sudden hot warmth of his hand on her waist. <i>How did he get so close?</i></p><p>"That's a shame." A lock of her hair had escaped the neat knot at the base of her neck, falling forward to cover one eye. Bucky twisted it around his finger. "I was hoping my favorite nurse could help. She's really the only one I trust with something this delicate. She's so much more sensitive than the others."</p><p>Dawn steeled herself. She could do this. She just had to stay strong. It was one playful conversation. They'd had hundreds of them. They didn't mean anything. Except she had fallen a little more in love with him every time. "And what… what seems to be the matter?"</p><p>"Well you see, sister. It's my heart. It just hasn't been the same the last few months. I think it's broken. Here. Listen." Bucky pulled her head into his chest. She fit so nicely there. The space between them was warm even in the cold air.</p><p>"It sounds fine to me." Dawn pushed away from him. It was the exact opposite of what she wanted to do. She wanted to melt into him. Throw her arms around him and sob with relief. <i>He's okay. He's here and he's okay.</i></p><p>"It's strange. It feels a lot better." Bucky carefully tucked her loose hair behind her ear. "Must be that comforting touch you sisters are so famous for."</p><p>"I should go." Dawn whispered. If she wanted to protect her heart, she couldn't stay here like this.</p><p>"Right." Bucky dropped his hand back to his side, trying not to let the hurt show. "You probably had a long shift. You're tired, and I just showed up out of nowhere."</p><p>He dipped his head and quickly kissed her cheek. "Goodbye, Sunshine."</p><p>He hated walking away from her. He had always hated it. This was so much worse than every other time. At least he'd gotten to say goodbye. Wasn't that what people said helped heal a broken heart? Closure or some bull like that.</p><p>"Bucky, wait."</p><p>Before he’d made it even a few paces she was in his arms again, clinging as if she’d never let go. </p><p>“I’m sorry. I’m sorry about what I said. I was scared and I thought I’d lost you and I missed you so much and -- and -- You can write. And I'll write back. And--" The next thing she knew his hands were on her face and his lips were pressed against hers. </p><p>She melted against him with a small, helpless sound, fitting against him as if she had always been meant to be there. She shifted, twining her arms around the back of his neck to pull him closer, rising on tip-toe to press her mouth more firmly against his. </p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">February 26, 1944</span>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <i>Dear Dawn</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I thought writing letters was hard back at Moose Tracks. Turns out they are even more serious about what gets redacted when you're part of 'Captain America's' team. We've busy but I don't know if I can even tell you about [redacted]</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I've been racking my brain training to think of something I could tell you. I think I've cracked it, but if this entire thing is blacked out, remember that I tried.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Do you know that it has been a year since I made you drop your sheets? How can it only have been a year? It feels like half a minute, or a lifetime. Several lifetimes. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>I had a dream last night. You and me were back in our meadow. The sun was shining to keep us warm. The only sound was bees. I had my head in your lap and you were reading to me again. Only this time the story had a happy ending. The guy got the right girl and no one tried to keep them apart.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>It's raining here.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I miss my Sunshine.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Thinking of you every day.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Your Bucky</i>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">March 9, 1944</span>
  </b>
</p><p>One of the many things Dawn missed about the pre-war days was colour. She missed wearing brightly coloured blouses and strolling through her favourite stores looking for new fabrics and designs that she might copy. She’d taken up knitting as a hobby a year into coming to the front, when the words weren’t coming and she needed something to do with her hands. Ginny had been kind enough, patient enough to teach her, and had saved her sanity along the way. </p><p>But of course, even that had been restricted. Not the sanity, but the knitting. Even out here there were guidelines about what colours to use, what patterns to make them in. She understood -- a bright red scarf in the middle of a battlefield would be an instant target. But she still longed for more options.</p><p>She had been lucky enough to get her hands on some nice navy blue wool a few months back, one of the few colours approved to be sent to the front.  She’d refused to admit it at the time, but she’d always known who it was to be for.</p><p>And yet she had never started. Fall had been… well, a nightmare. She’d been about to start up again when she and Bucky had separated and, well, that wasn’t the best time to start either. </p><p>But things were different now. She had hope, could see the light on the horizon.</p><p>He had always been the one bringing her gifts, small things to make her smile. And she’d so little to give back to him. This time, it was her turn to surprise him. </p><p>She’d started on his gift the day they had reconciled, fetching the wool and her neglected knitting needles from the corner of her footlocker, and setting to work. His birthday, she knew, was mid-way through March, and she’d have to work quickly if she was to get done in time. </p><p>Every spare moment Dawn had she dedicated to her knitting, the scarf growing by inches every night. In previous attempts she hadn’t cared overmuch about the neatness or evenness of the stitches, but she cared now. At last, it was as perfect as she could make it. But still, she was not satisfied. </p><p>Then, a few nights ago, Dawn’s gaze had fallen upon her book of knitting patterns. It had fallen off her cot, open to a design for fingerless gloves. She frowned, looking over the pattern requirements. She’d used the last of her yarn on the scarf. It would take a visit to the quartermaster to see if she could get more. Hopefully in the same blue. She’d take the green if she had to -- God knew Bucky still looked wonderful in it -- but it would be nice to give him a matching set. </p><p>As tempting as it was to race straight over there, cooler heads -- namely Ginny’s -- prevailed. It was late, and she’d already been complaining of hand cramps. She could inquire after more yarn during her lunch break. </p><p>Someone upstairs must have been smiling down on her. The moment she was free from her morning duties, Dawn raced for the quartermaster’s tent to see about the wool, only to find Rosie leaving the tent ahead of her. </p><p>Dawn skidded to a halt, nearly tripping over her own shoes as Rosie turned her way. To her immense surprise, Rosie stopped in front of her, offering forth a fresh skein of dark blue yarn. </p><p>“I -- what -- ?”</p><p>Rosie smiled at her as she took the yarn, giving a casual shrug. “You were talking about it last night. I needed to requisition a couple things anyway, so I thought I’d ask after the yarn too.”</p><p>Dawn didn’t even stop to think. She just threw herself at the other woman, wrapping her up in an enthusiastic hug. “Rosie, you are a saint! Thank you! Thank you, thank you!” </p><p>The blonde woman laughed, green eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’re welcome.” </p><p>Dawn released her quickly, face flushed, but too happy to be embarrassed about what she had just done. She hadn’t realized just how close she and Rosie had gotten the last few months, ever since she had gotten over her irrational fear and started to <i>talk</i> to her. “Truly, you are my hero. I was afraid they wouldn’t have any left.”</p><p>“There were a few,” Rosie told her. “But I wasn’t sure when you’d have a chance to come down here, so I picked one up just in case.”</p><p>“Really, thank you again.” She stepped back, tucking a loose lock of hair back behind her ear.</p><p>“Teach me how to do the little embroidered flowers you did on the end of your apron and we’ll call it even.”</p><p>Dawn laughed. “Deal.” </p><p>Still smiling, the two nurses parted ways, Rosie to the mess tent, and Dawn to secure the precious wool safely in her footlocker. </p><p>The gloves took longer than she would have hoped. They were much more challenging to make than a simple rectangular scarf, and she’d had to redo the fingers of the first one a couple times, but at last she finished them.</p><p>Her biggest challenge now was that she was one day shy of Bucky’s birthday, and she had no idea where to send his gift. It would be late, there would be no avoiding that. But hopefully, if she sent them the next morning, they would reach him soon.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. March 10, 1944</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">March 10, 1944</span>
  </b>
</p><p>Bucky was vibrating in anticipation. He had no idea how Steve had pulled this off. The factory they were targeting this time was close to the Italian-Austrian border, but there were probably easier ways to get to it than overland from the Canadian forward operating Base.</p><p>They had air dropped into Italy just before dark, safely behind Allied lines. The squad, the truck they were driving, and Steve's bike all dangling from silk hundreds of feet in the air. Learning to parachute had been one of the more nerve-wracking parts of joining Steve's team. It was a lot more fun when they weren't jumping into enemy territory. </p><p>After they had landed, they had loaded the bike into the truck and climbed in around it and started driving. That was almost ten hours ago. Gabe was at the wheel now, navigating them down the narrow Italian road towards their goal. </p><p>Bucky peeked out the side of the truck. Trees and abandoned fields. The exact same view it had been all night. "How much further?"</p><p>"One more check point." Morita said, pouring over a map in the front seat. "We should be there by nine." </p><p>Bucky absently checked the watch strapped to his wrist. Just a couple more hours. And then a couple more after that, if she wasn't on nights this week, which she probably wasn't. His knee jiggled involuntarily.</p><p>Steve reached over and stilled him without looking up from the briefing he was trying to decipher in the dark.</p><p>"Someone's eager to get back in the fray." Falsworth teased.</p><p>"Excited to see his girl for his birthday you mean." Dugan chuckled and lit a cigar. Bucky had no ideas where the man got them, but he never seemed to run out.</p><p>Across the truck, Junior leaned forward on his elbows. As the youngest he always acted like he had something to prove. "Yeah? You gonna get lucky, Barnes? Your girl got a special treat for you?"</p><p>"Watch your mouth." Bucky growled. Junior was the youngest and newest member of their company, and today, apparently, he had decided he was going to prove he was just as worldly and experienced as the rest of them. He refused to believe that Peggy was the only girl Steve had ever really kissed. Picking Dawn as his target was a serious miscalculation. Bucky wasn't about to let <i>anyone</i> badmouth his girl. Least of all some punk kid with a chip on his shoulder.</p><p>"What's the point of being a war hero if there are no <i>side</i> benefits." Junior said with a lewd hand gesture.</p><p>Bucky lunged across the narrow space before anyone else could move. That was too far. He grabbed Junior by the lapels and dragged him half over the back of the bike. The spare gas tank had to be digging into his gut. Bucky didn't care. "Dawn's a lady. A nurse. Not some cheap floozy. You keep that tongue of yours respectful, or I take it out."</p><p>Junior twisted out of his grip, falling back into his seat heavily. He smoothed his jacket back down. "Yeah? Carter's a lady too. You think that means she's never gone to her knees for the Captain?"</p><p>Steve went dangerously still. The rest of the Commandos pulled away from Junior like he was suddenly red hot. Peggy was off-limits. It was an unwritten rule, but one they all followed. Steve's voice was low and menacing as he finally leaned forward. "Bucky warned you. You won’t like it if I have to. A filthy mouth doesn't make you a tough guy."</p><p>★</p><p>Dawn chaffed her arms as she stepped into the cool air outside. The minor injury ward was full today. Twenty-odd men and three nurses meant it was stuffy in the tent, but it was warm. The fog had started to get to her. She had needed air, even if it was chilly.</p><p>The commotion had provided the perfect excuse. She could duck outside to figure out what was happening, and as a bonus, breathe air that hadn't been exhaled by a dozen other people.</p><p>A truck had pulled into the open space at the center of the camp. Men were climbing out. Someone rolled a motorcycle down a ramp at the back. She watched them curiously.</p><p>It was odd that most of them seemed to be out of regulation uniform. They looked like men off duty, but they were all working. There were even a handful of officers watching them, apparently unconcerned by the breach of protocol.</p><p>A figure in dark blue vaulted out of the back of the truck. Dawn's breath caught. She would know those shoulders anywhere. "Bucky!"</p><p>"Sunshine!" Bucky bounded towards her, picking her up and spinning her around as soon as she was within arm's reach. He settled her back on the ground with his arms wrapped around her. "Didn't think I'd get to see you before lunch."</p><p>"What are you doing here?" She asked, surprised. “I didn’t think you’d be back for -- “ Well, she didn’t know when he’d be back.</p><p>"Top secret." Bucky winked. Everything he did was top secret these days. "You've got me all night though."</p><p>She beamed up at him, not even bothering to hide her joy. “Then we’ll have to make the most of it.”</p><p>Unfortunately, whatever she was going to say next was cut off by a call from inside. Matron had noticed her disappearance. She had to get back.</p><p>Dawn sighed. “Duty calls. Meet you in the mess for lunch?”</p><p>“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Bucky purred, wishing desperately that they weren't standing in the middle of camp where everyone could see them so that he could kiss her the way he wanted to.</p><p>Before she could second-guess herself, Dawn raised up on tiptoe to press a soft kiss to his mouth before disappearing back into the tent.</p><p>It was going to be a long time ‘til lunch.</p><p>
  
</p><p>★</p><p>Dawn was later than she wanted to be getting lunch, but the moment she was set loose she dashed for her tent, retrieving the paper-wrapped parcel from her footlocker before making her way to the mess tent.</p><p>The Howling Commandos, as they’d come to be known, were already holding court inside, with Dugan already regaling those present with no-doubt-exaggerated accounts of their most recent exploits -- with Morita elbowing him whenever he strayed too close to something classified. </p><p>Steve and Bucky had seated themselves one table over, chuckling over the good-natured bickering of their team-mates. It was good to be home, or what passed for it nowadays. </p><p>He looked happy, Dawn thought as she watched them from the doorway. They both did. More relaxed than the last time she’d seen them. And they’d managed to tidy up some too in the last couple of hours, their hair damp with water from the quick showers they’d managed to grab once they’d been settled. She had an overwhelming urge to run her fingers through that hair and see if she could make it stick up in ridiculous little spikes.</p><p>And then Bucky glanced up, his eyes meeting hers, and the smile that lit his face could have powered the entire camp in a blackout. </p><p>“Hey there, Sunshine,” he said as she crossed the mess tent towards them, tugging her down to sit on the bench next to him. “What you got there?”</p><p>“A surprise,” she answered, swatting away his curious hands with a fond smile. “Hi, Steve.”</p><p>“Miss Dawn.” Steve smiled back at her with a warm and knowing look. She had his seal of approval when it came to dating his best friend. </p><p>Dawn shifted a little closer to Bucky, pressing their legs together from ankle to hip. “How was the trip? I didn’t think you’d be back with us so soon.”</p><p>Steve shrugged, his gaze flicking over to his best friend. A solid lead on Schmidt's location. A plan of action cooked up with help from Peggy. A slight abuse of power because he loved his best friend. And here they were. “Call it a birthday present.”</p><p>“Well then, I should probably give him mine, shouldn’t I?” And she passed the parcel into Bucky’s eager hands.</p><p>He tore into the paper without a care, grinning when he saw the knit gloves and scarf. </p><p>“I’m sorry they were late,” Dawn said. “Or… would have been. They took a little longer to make than I wanted.”</p><p>“They’re perfect,” he told her, pulling on the gloves, a smile on his lips when he saw what she’d embroidered on the inside of the cuffs -- the outline of a small heart on the left, and a little sun on the right. A secret, just for them. He pulled her close, kissed her cheek. “I love them.”</p><p>As he unfolded the scarf, a small, hand-bound notebook tumbled into his lap. “Oho! What’s this?”</p><p>“Ah -- just… something extra." She set her hand on top of his and pushed his hands and the little book to the table when he tried to open it. "For later.” </p><p>Oh, now he was very curious. But if she wanted him to go through it later, he would. Still beaming, he wrapped one arm tightly around her waist, the other sliding under her wimple to cradle her neck and pull her as close as he could without lifting her off the bench. “Thank you.”</p><p>She returned the hug, taking in his warmth, his calm and solid presence. “Happy Birthday, Bucky.” The words were slightly muffled by his chest, but she thought that might make them sound even better.</p><p>★</p><p>Dawn stayed with them as long as she could, taking her lunch and catching up with Steve and Bucky on whatever they were able to tell her. And when her time was over, she gave Bucky a kiss on the cheek before she departed for work. </p><p>After she’d left, Steve nodded down at the little book. “What is it?”</p><p>“No clue.” But he was dying to open it. The paper inside was irregularly sized, some clearly scrap, others torn from a notebook.  Fragmented letters she’d written to him while they were separated, and never sent, dozens of them. One for almost every day between the day they separated and the day they reconciled. </p><p>Bucky touched one of the shortest ones reverently. Five words that made him feel like his world was shifting. She loved him. Dawn, his sweet, brilliant, Sunshine girl, loved him. All those days he'd been afraid she would find someone better for her, she had written to him. Thought of him. Loved him. Just like he loved her.</p><p>★</p><p>Dawn saw them again over dinner. This time with the delightful addition of Peggy and Ginny. The addition of her witty friends and the rest of the Howling Commandos, all now gathered around the same table as their captain, made for excellent conversation through most of dinner. It wasn't until everyone was done eating and started drifting off to other activities that Dawn started to get antsy.</p><p>She wanted to stay and get to know Bucky's friends better. He and Steve were close enough that the man had been willing to run headlong into almost certain death on the off chance he might be able to save him. Dawn wanted him to like her. But she was having a hard time making a mark on the conversation now that it was a small group.</p><p>Peggy and Steve kept getting distracted talking about something to do with supply chain interruption. Most of their conversation was completely opaque to Dawn. It wasn't a facet of the war she had ever considered, not for the other side at least. But, she thought as she listened, a vital one. If you can’t get food or supplies to your army, or even your civilian populations, it would only be a matter of time before they were forced to surrender. The need to balance the effects of that powerful disruption against unnecessary hardship for the civilians was more layers of complication than she was used to in strategy discussions.</p><p>Bucky read the conflict in Dawn's posture. He had heard Steve and Peggy have this debate enough times to know that they wouldn't let anyone distract them. He and his girl would be better off finding their own entertainment. He leaned over to whisper in her ear, the soft curls of her hair brushing his cheek. "Take a walk with me?"</p><p>Dawn nodded, slipping her hand into his and letting him lead her from the tent. The scale on which Steve and Peggy thought was truly intimidating. These were the people who were going to end the war. As encouraging as it was to know that they were on the same side, watching them work scared her. She would rather spend time with Bucky.</p><p>Together they dashed through the camp. Dawn felt like a naughty child skipping out on her homework to do something her mother had specifically forbidden. She understood for the first time why some of her friends had let boys coax them into climbing out their bedroom windows for midnight assignations.</p><p>Dawn squeezed his hand, enjoying the warm feeling of him next to her as they slipped into the trees. The woods were technically outside of the main perimeter. There was a second ring of sentries on the far side of the grove and the front was in the opposite direction, making it a reasonably safe place to find some privacy. Dawn craved that privacy right now. She wanted to be alone with Bucky. To be together and not have to worry about anyone overhearing or interrupting them.</p><p>Dawn danced ahead of him playfully. Stealing a quick brush of lips. The way he chased after her reminded her of a summer day a lifetime ago when they had played tag together. It was too early in the year for there to be a bed of flowers for them, but the spring woods were almost as pretty. </p><p>A mischievous smirk tugged at the corners of Bucky's mouth. They were finally alone. He swept her into his arms, spinning them around to make her laugh and cling to him.</p><p>Planting her back against the rough bark of a tree, he kissed her. It was a different kind of kiss from most of the ones they had shared before. Those had all been honey, sweet and soft and pure. This was whiskey, sharp and spicy, burning her tongue, and completely intoxicating. It scared her how much she wanted more.</p><p>Bucky slid a knee between her legs, pressing hard against her. She was so soft and so sweet. She looked up at him with those big blue eyes and he was absolutely helpless. He fisted his hands in the skirt covering her hips, inching it higher.</p><p>Dawn clutched at his forearms, a wave of panic cutting through the warm buzzing feeling. "Bucky."</p><p>He stopped immediately, reading the tension in her movements. "Tell me what you're thinking, Sunshine."</p><p>She slid her hands up his chest, pushing him back to gain a few inches of sanity. "I'm not ready."</p><p>"Okay." Bucky stepped away, smoothing her skirt back down over her hips. "We can wait. You are worth waiting for. God Sunshine, sometimes you're all I can think about."</p><p>And there he was, putting to words how she’d felt for months. She’d wanted before, but never this strongly. Where every look, every touch was a temptation. But much as she wanted to, this was a risk she could not take. Not now. Not yet. But that didn’t mean that she couldn’t enjoy her time alone with him for a little longer.</p><p>She ran her hands back down his chest. The hard muscle trapped under dark blue fabric just one more layer of temptation. "Bucky?"</p><p>"Hmmm?" Bucky's mind had gotten ahead of him and his hands and he was having a harder time reigning it back in than he would care to admit. Fantasies about what her skin would feel like, or how she would look with her legs wrapped around him, still clamoured for his attention.</p><p>Dawn licked her lips. This was probably a bad idea. "You can…You can kiss me a little more…If you want to."</p><p>Bucky smiled and wrapped his hands back around her waist. "Yeah, I can handle that."</p><p>She might not be ready to go all the way with him, but she was certainly ready to kiss him until they both forgot how to breathe. She dragged her fingers through his hair, pulling him down to press his mouth to hers once more, savouring the small, helpless sound he made and the way his fingers tightened about her waist when she dragged her teeth over his lower lip. Encouraged, she did it again. </p><p>She was going to be the end of him, he thought dimly as her mouth pressed eagerly against his. He’d never realized how the sun could burn, but when her hands tugged slightly at his hair, sending a shudder of pleasure through him, he couldn’t think of a better way to go.</p><p>Once again, he had her back against the tree, the slender line of her body pressed fully against his. Those gentle hands tugged again and her mouth left his, only to start trailing kisses along the line of his jaw. And kept kissing down until he felt the scrape of her teeth above the collar of his jacket. </p><p>The sound he made in response was involuntary, desperate, and Dawn very much wanted to hear it again. </p><p>Bucky slid his hands down her hips again, keeping his hands firmly over her skirt this time. He needed to hold onto her or he would drown on dry land. He still might. After everything, this was how he died. With the woman he loved kissing his neck and driving him mad. He was okay with that.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. April 19- May 17, 1944</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">April 19, 1944 </span>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <i>Dear Bucky</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I love you</i>
</p><p>Five words, scribbled on what looked like the wrapping paper from a box of syringes. He'd torn the little note out of the booklet she had given him and started carrying it with him almost as soon as he had said goodbye. If Steve could have Peggy in his compass, Bucky could have Dawn over his heart.</p><p>Bucky touched the place where the note was now. He couldn’t physically feel it through his thickly quilted jacket, but he knew it was there. The knowledge grounded him. The world below him was in tumult. A factory was burning. But his girl and her love were as steady as ever.</p><p>
  <i>Love you too, Sunshine. Back as soon as I take care of this one little thing.</i>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>He scooted a little farther out on the rock outcropping. His team had the Hydra scientists and their stormtrooper guards on the run. Jacques had done his job well. One wall was entirely collapsed, the roof was on fire and falling in. Up the road he could see Happy and Gabe running down the scientist they were hoping to capture in the Jeep. </p><p>This was where Bucky liked to be. Up high, looking down at everything. He’d take a sniper rifle over a machine gun every time, given the option. Unfortunately, he didn’t always get the option. The rifle wasn’t near as useful in close quarters and a lot of what they did took place indoors. Indoors he’d take the machine gun and stick tight to Steve’s right shoulder.</p><p>Bucky quickly found Steve in his sights. </p><p>The Captain America shield had painted a giant target on Steve’s chest and Hydra was determined to take him out. Bucky wasn’t about to let that happen. He scanned the debris-strewn area around Steve for threats. The flight in his immediate vicinity seemed to have died down. That was something.</p><p>Black flashed at the edge of his magnified vision.</p><p>He had the shot off almost before he identified the target.</p><p>The stormtrooper that had hoped to bag Captain America as a prize tumbled over the wall, dropping almost at Steve's feet.</p><p>Steve tossed a thank you salute in Bucky’s direction. </p><p>Bucky gritted his jaw and set his eye back to the scope. They would talk about that later.</p><p>★</p><p>“—Need to stay in cover. If they know where he is, he's bloody useless!”</p><p>Bucky arrived back at the rendezvous point in the middle of a very impassioned rant from Falsworth. Falsworth might be four inches shorter than his Captain, but he could lecture like no one Bucky had ever met. Bucky chalked it up to that English Public-School education of his. You always expected him to produce a yardstick from somewhere and give you a thrashing like a naughty schoolboy. </p><p>The rest of the team were already back lounging around the jeep watching the show. Pinky tossed Bucky a full canteen, which he caught gratefully before propping the sniper rifle in the back of the jeep.</p><p>The jeep was empty except for their gear, which meant the scientists were all dead. Probably cyanide again. He was getting real tired of that trick. If they couldn’t take prisoners to interrogate or turn, they weren’t doing anything a well-directed bombing run couldn’t do. And bombing runs didn’t involve him putting his neck on the line for weeks at a time.</p><p>Steve looked at Bucky a little desperately. “You want to jump in here?”</p><p>Bucky shrugged and twisted the lid off the canteen. “Nah. I'll wait till Monty’s voice starts to go. I’ve got a whole thing about turning your back on the action, but I don’t want to cover ground he’s already gone over.”</p><p>“I need new friends.” Steve sighed, rubbing his eyes.</p><p>“No. You need to keep your shield up.” Bucky shot back, taking a casual swig of water.</p><p>“Thank you. I was just getting to that.” Monty said crisply before launching back into his lecture. It was no mystery why they had made him a lieutenant. He really was an artist when it came to a good dressing down.</p><p>Bucky wondered absently if there were any spare chocolate bars left. He was starving. K-rations just didn’t fill him up. In retrospect he probably shouldn't have slipped Steve his ham this morning.</p><p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">May 17, 1944</span>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <i>Dear Bucky</i>
</p><p>
  <i>It has been a very strange day, and I'm not sure how much of it I can tell you about. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>It started out incredibly hectic. Matron twisted her ankle quite badly last week, so she's on bed rest. Surgery has been intensive enough that Ginny has been pulled from rotation. Rosie is covering nights all month. Which means <b>I</b> am the senior sister on the ward. Which in a busy hospital unit like ours means I end up talking to just about everyone in a day.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>We had a general (I won't say which one, but you know him.) Come by for iron tablets, and I made him wait while I finished patching up a Partisan fighter. I felt quite bold telling him to take a seat too, but like Matron always says. It is our hospital and we can't let officers who don't know the difference between a bedpan and a surgical tray tell us how to look after our patients.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Then in the afternoon the colonel came in (mine, not yours). Apparently, our little medical team is being reassigned, along with half of our company. The Americans will look after our boys' here in [redacted] while we ship off to [redacted] and wait for some new "excitement" there. That's what he called it too. Excitement. Like being up to my eyebrows in bandages that need changing is exciting.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>The rations are supposed to be better at least. He said there would be fresh produce. I think he was trying to bribe me into not yelling at him. Between the two of them, Matron and Ginny have most of the officers scared stiff when it comes to telling us something they think we won't want to hear.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Not that I'm not looking forward to at least the potential for fresh food. I would kill for a salad. But I'm not looking forward to getting there (have I mentioned I get seasick?) Ginny will probably spend as much time nursing me on the ship as she does the injured men we're taking with us.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Anyway, since I'm the ward sister I get to pass the order on to everyone else. Hard to say how the girls are going to take the news.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I miss you. I'll look for you, but even if we are both in the same place I don't know how I'd find you. You might have better luck. Peggy will probably know where I am. (Sometimes I think she knows everything that goes on in this war)</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I'll write you once we get situated.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>All my love</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Your Sunshine </i>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. June 5- August 28, 1944</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">June 5, 1944</span>
  </b>
</p><p>Dawn still wasn’t entirely sure who had suggested the decathlon as a way to distract everyone before tomorrow. She thought it might have been Stark. The industrialist certainly looked smug enough. Although that could also be because he thought he cut a sharp figure in his civilian suit. He definitely stood out from the GIs around him. Like a racing dove in a flock of pigeons. </p><p>Whoever had suggested it, it was working. The competition was fierce. Americans vs the Commonwealth. Nine competitions in and The Commonwealth was ahead by one event.</p><p>“86,87—"</p><p>Dawn credited her and Ginny’s performance in the 3-legged race. </p><p>Although Falsworth had cinched the tongue twister competition. Jack and his squad had won the log rolling competition with ease. And Peggy was definitively their all-star with egg-and-spoon and knot tying as feathers in her cap already.</p><p>Peggy was defending their honour again valiantly in the one-armed push-up competition. Of the remaining four competitors, she was the only Brit left. Peggy Carter alone against the best of the American Army, or some of the best anyway, Bucky had dropped out around eighty, leaving Dugan, Gabe, and Steve to try for his side.</p><p>Dawn clutched Ginny’s hand, bouncing with excitement.</p><p>“89, 90, 91—"</p><p>Steve was the American's not-so-secret weapon. He had won three out of four of their events for them, all of the physical challenges. Rope climb, pole hang, and foot race.</p><p>Dawn was sure that the only reason he and Bucky hadn’t won the 3-legged race was because she had winked at Bucky in the middle and he had tripped over his own feet, dragging down Steve and snarling most of the pack in the process.</p><p>Not that Bucky was sulking about it. He had recovered with aplomb and gone on to lose spectacularly at two other events. Coming in second in rope climb, right behind Steve. He would have won handily without the super soldier in the mix. And falling off almost immediately in the log rolling thanks to a jerky start from Dugan.</p><p>He was grinning at Dawn from the other side of the field now, wet shirt clinging to him in a way that made her want to watch him instead of the actual competition. A conflicting feeling since the competition was fierce.</p><p>"94, 95, come on Carter you've got this, 96, 97, hang in there, for king and country." Falsworth counted off each time Peggy reached the apex of the exercise.</p><p>"Hanging in there, Pegs?" Steve grinned, moving as easily as ever.</p><p>"Bloody -- brilliantly -- Rogers." Peggy panted. Her arm was starting to shake, her form getting sloppy.</p><p>"102, 103 --"</p><p>"Give it up Carter." Stark called through cupped hands. "You can't beat him. He's the pinnacle of human perfection."</p><p>Peggy flipped him off with the hand behind her back.</p><p>"105, 106 -- "</p><p>Peggy pushed up again. She wasn't going to make it down and back up again, and she knew it.</p><p>"107!"</p><p>Still lazy, unhurried, Steve was half a form behind her. His grin grew wider. "No shame in giving up Pegs. You put up a good-- "</p><p>Peggy lunged across the few inches separating their faces. </p><p>Her lips found his.</p><p>Steve's arms went rigid and he collapsed in surprise at the kiss. Peggy tumbled after him, her arm finally giving out.</p><p>"And he's down! That's 106 for the hero of Brooklyn, the best the US Army has to offer, Steve Rogers. 107! for our champion, Agent Peggy Carter!"</p><p>Falsworth and the Canadians broke into a rousing chorus of ‘God Save the King’, Peggy conducting from her back.</p><p>"Cheat! Cheap trick!" A flurry of objections sounded from the Americans. Apparently oblivious to the fact almost all of the events they had won had been thanks to Steve’s inhuman abilities.</p><p>Steve laughed and pulled Peggy to her feet. He kept an arm around her, half out of affection, half, Bucky suspected, because she wasn't entirely easy on them. "At ease, men. You seem to have forgotten one important fact about our competition."</p><p>"Yeah? What's that?" Happy called from his perch.</p><p>"Winner buys the beer!" Steve bellowed back.</p><p>The cheer that elicited was louder than anything that had come before.</p><p>"Oh dear, it is going to be an expensive night isn't it." Peggy sighed, leaning against Steve's side.</p><p>"Don't worry, doll. I'll spot you." Steve muttered, low enough that no one would be able to hear if they weren't as close as Bucky was. "Sides, we've all got work in the morning. I'm limiting them to two each and sending them straight to bed."</p><p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">June 8, 1944</span>
  </b>
</p><p>It was rare for Steve and Bucky to have alone time these days. Even rarer for that alone time to take place in relative comfort and security. The former German officer's mess wasn't exactly cushy, but it had been scrubbed clean, the coffee was hot, and the table was big enough that Bucky could spread out and give his guns a proper cleaning. Saltwater and sand were a bitch. He would take care of Steve's too, because Steve was an irresponsible little punk no matter what anyone else said, and would forget if Bucky didn't do it for him.</p><p>Steve sat with his feet up on the end of the table, nursing a tin mug of coffee and listening to his friend worry. "Would you relax? The Canadians have their beachhead secure."</p><p>Bucky shrugged and started reassembling his pistol. "I know. I just thought it would be a good idea for us, as an elite squad, to do a quick check of the entire front line here to make sure there are no weak spots. It will be good for morale and shit."</p><p>Steve snorted into his mug. Bucky's nonchalant act wasn't about to work on him. He'd been on the receiving end of that worry too many times not to know what it looked like. "You mean your girl is landing tomorrow and you want to make sure she's safe."</p><p>Colonel Philips ducked his head into the room. He and Gabe had been on the radio with command back in England all morning. From the grim look on his face he wasn't done talking to them either. "Agent Carter is catching a ride across the channel with the next batch of Canadian non-combatants. She'll be here tomorrow with fresh Intel for you boys. Looks like you're going overland on this one."</p><p>Steve set his mug down excruciatingly slowly, his mind obviously moving a mile a minute. All the contingencies that Bucky had been worried about and more finally occurring to him. "...You know it can't hurt to check on how the line is holding. The men always like seeing us around helping out."</p><p>Bucky's rifle and Steve's pistol were both assembled at record speed. The whole thing was less than 50 miles. If they left now, took Steve's bike and the small jeep, they'd be back before the first batch of boats in the morning. "Knew you'd see things my way."</p><p>Steve holstered his pistol with one hand grabbing his shield off the floor with the other. "Don't tell Peggy."</p><p>"Wouldn't dream of it." Bucky shrugged into his jacket. He wasn't planning to tell Dawn that he'd checked up on her safety, let alone Peggy.</p><p>Mines. They needed to check with the engineering Corps and make sure they had finished sweeping the beaches for mines.</p><p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">August 28, 1944</span>
  </b>
</p><p>Bucky had wanted to bring Dawn to the <i>Champ de Mars</i> since the second time he had seen it.</p><p>The first time he had been here he had been fighting his way tree to tree as they advanced on the <i>École Militaire</i>. That day he'd been very glad that Dawn was nowhere near the park.</p><p>The second time he and the Commandos had been looking for somewhere to camp. Steve had strict rules about commandeering anyone's beds or houses, so they ended up sleeping in a lot of parks and barns especially in the summer. <i>Champ de Mars,</i> in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower and within easy walking distance of the <i>arc de Triomphe</i> had been an ideal situation. Especially once they had received their orders for the day <i>after</i> liberation. </p><p>Steve had punched through a wall at the idea that they would stop their advance for something as vainglorious as a parade through a city that still didn't have enough food to feed its people. He would have done real structural damage if his team hadn't dragged him outside for target practice with his shield. Even then he hadn't really relaxed until they had reminded him that they weren't all super soldiers and a couple of days down time between fire fights would give them time to rest and assess where on the front they could do the most good.</p><p>The answer, as it turned out when they talked to Peggy, was exactly where they were. Hydra had a nest of rats holed up in the catacombs. Rats with energy weapons. The Howling Commandos had settled in for a few days camped out in the park. And Bucky had braced himself for the nightmare of fighting in a literal underground.</p><p>Picking spots, Bucky found himself sprawled under a huge old tree, staring up at the stars between the leaves. It was an amazingly peaceful place. If you ignored the bullet holes that peppered the trees you could almost imagine that there was no war. The thing he had wanted most in that moment had been Dawn, curled against his side, pointing out constellations and explaining the myths behind them.</p><p>Which was why Bucky had brought his favorite nurse here the first time they both had an afternoon free in the city of lights. They couldn't sleep out in the park together, but they could enjoy the peace of the place for a little while.</p><p>Especially since rooting out the rats' nest hadn't taken as long as Bucky had worried it would. Paris was as safe as anywhere on the content could be.</p><p>The grass was soft from summer rain, if a little overgrown. With his back against the tree trunk and his girl's head resting in his lap, Bucky felt truly at ease for the first time in months.</p><p> Dawn curled her hand around Bucky's knee, cuddling herself firmly against him. The news coming back from the front had been so dismal the last few weeks. The men even more so. Dawn had been absolutely frantic that something would happen to Bucky. She didn't even know how she would find out if something did happen. He was alright though. He'd been waiting for her as soon as she had stepped out of the transport truck. Her beautiful smiling boy, as healthy and intact as always.</p><p>Bucky couldn't help noticing the way she clung to him. He felt guilty for leaving her alone for so long. "Still scared, doll?"</p><p>"Still terrified." It felt good to admit it to someone. She spent so much energy every day pretending she wasn't afraid, both for herself and her patients. Being strong all the time was exhausting. It was nice to have someone she could be fragile around. Bucky didn't expect her to be strong. He just expected her to be her.</p><p>"You don't have to be. We're going to make it." Bucky rubbed her back reassuringly.   </p><p>Dawn shifted so she could look up at him. How could he say that with such confidence? "You were captured."</p><p>"That's not going to happen again. I'm on Steve's team now, he won't let anything happen to me." Plus, he had a cyanide pill of his own now.  No one was going to take him prisoner again. Not that he was going to share that info with Dawn. He didn't want her to think about any future except the one where they lived happily ever after.</p><p>She shook her head and settled back down in his lap. She knew Steve would die before he let anything happen to Bucky. She also knew that still wasn't a guarantee.</p><p>"Will you sing for me again?" Dawn asked, rubbing her hand over the soft wool of his pants. She didn't want to think about the future one way or another. Either everything would be fine, or it wouldn't.</p><p>"I'll always sing for you, doll," Bucky promised, stroking her hair. These would be the moments they told their grandchildren about someday. Even if they didn't, these were the moments he saw when he closed his eyes and thought of her.</p><p>Dawn closed her eyes. She loved Bucky's singing voice. It was so soothing. Nothing made her feel quite as safe. </p><p>
  <i>"The other night dear, as I lay sleeping<br/>
I dreamed I held you in my arms<br/>
But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken<br/>
So I hung my head and I cried</i>
</p><p>
  <i>You are my Sunshine, my only Sunshine<br/>
You make me happy when skies are gray<br/>
You'll never know dear, how much I love you<br/>
Please don't take my Sunshine away</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I'll always love you and make you happy<br/>
If you will only say the same<br/>
But if you leave me and love another<br/>
You'll regret it all some day</i>
</p><p>
  <i>You are my Sunshine, my only Sunshine<br/>
You make me happy when skies are gray<br/>
You'll never know dear, how much I love you<br/>
Please don't take my Sunshine away</i>
</p><p>
  <i>You told me once, dear, you really loved me<br/>
And no one else could come between<br/>
But now you've left me and love another<br/>
You have shattered all of my dreams</i>
</p><p>
  <i>You are my Sunshine, my only Sunshine<br/>
You make me happy when skies are gray<br/>
You'll never know dear, how much I love you<br/>
Please don't take my Sunshine away</i>
</p><p>
  <i>In all my dreams, dear, you seem to leave me<br/>
When I awake my poor heart pains<br/>
So when you come back and make me happy<br/>
I'll forgive you dear, I'll take all the blame</i>
</p><p>
  <i>You are my Sunshine, my only Sunshine<br/>
You make me happy when skies are gray<br/>
You'll never know dear, how much I love you<br/>
Please don't take my Sunshine away."</i>
</p><p>Bucky smiled down at Dawn. She had fallen asleep sometime during the song. Good, he didn't think she got enough sleep.</p><p><i>Sweet dreams, Sunshine.</i> He curled his fingers into her hair and tipped his hat over his eyes. He wouldn't say no to a nap himself.</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. October 8, 1944</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">October 8, 1944</span>
  </b>
</p>
<p>When Steve had initially suggested that they might need additional troops on this patrol, Bucky hadn't thought too much about it. It wasn't that unusual for them to tag along with another company if they weren't doing something specific. Even when Steve had mentioned something about taking medical staff with them because of the number of refugees they were encountering, Bucky didn't connect the dots.</p>
<p>It wasn't until he actually joined his team in forming up with the mixed squad of Canadians that anything clicked for him. </p>
<p>Even then he managed to clasp hands with Jack before he realized who the two shorter 'soldiers' behind him had to be. </p>
<p>And when he did, he couldn’t help doing a double-take. </p>
<p>Dawn grinned at him from under her helmet as his face lit up, his eyes travelling over her. “Hello, Sergeant Barnes.”</p>
<p>Dawn didn't get to wear the overalls nearly as often as she would like. The heavy khaki pants and fitted jacket connected by a drawstring were more practical than the knee-length skirt of her everyday uniform. Her hair was braided and tucked firmly up under a helmet. Her helmet and an armband both bore a red cross on a white background.</p>
<p>Bucky reached over and tweaked the armband so it sat a little straighter. "You look good, doll. Let's keep that cross facing out. Just in case." He was going to be worried sick about her the entire time. He was so glad that she was here.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>★</p>
<p>Bucky kept glancing over his shoulder as they marched. Just to make sure the girls were keeping up.</p>
<p>He needn’t have worried. Freed of the skirts and little flat shoes they wore around camp, movement over the roads and rough terrain was much easier than it might have been otherwise. And Dawn was determined to keep up, refusing to give them any reason to regret bringing her along. </p>
<p>The hardest part, for her at least, was the silence. In another world, this would have been an ideal chance to get to know the men that were part of Steve and Bucky’s team. But it was clear from the first that conversation was to be kept to a minimum, lest an enemy catch them off guard. Something underscored by the constant sweeps for mines and other traps along the road.</p>
<p>Already they’d found and disposed of a length of razor wire stretched across the road between two trees, and Dernier had discovered and dismantled two roadside mines.</p>
<p>Not bouncing Bettys, thankfully. The prospect of those had given Dawn nightmares the moment she heard of them, and she was really hoping to avoid digging shrapnel from injured men at the side of the road. </p>
<p>★</p>
<p>It was almost sunset before Steve started to send scouts to look for a campsite. They had made it just over twenty miles. The men were starting to flag more than the women. Bucky knew that Peggy could keep up with the Howling Commandos, and would be fine for another five or ten miles easy. The nurses were more of a surprise. He wondered how much walking they actually did in a day if you totalled up all the laps. Apparently, if you put them in practical shoes, they could give some of the Marines he had met a run for their money.</p>
<p>Morita came back with a promising sight less than ten minutes after Steve called for a general rest.</p>
<p>The old stone farmhouse was in good repair. Abandoned, but most of the farms they came across looked abandoned at least at first. This one didn't have any of the little tells that made Bucky think the family was still around and hiding. No boots sitting on the porch waiting to be cleaned. No chickens strutting unconcerned around the yard.</p>
<p>The hay in the barn was at least two years old according to the farm boys they had with them.</p>
<p>It was the 'secret cellar' under a pile of farm equipment in the back corner that gave away what had happened. It had been broken open and there were bloodstains on the stairs. No one would be coming back here any time soon. Bucky crossed himself and determined that he would keep the girls away from it.</p>
<p>Steve declared that they would stay, with the men camping in the barn and the women in the house with the Commandos downstairs.</p>
<p> ★</p>
<p>Jack, by virtue of being a favoured friend of the Commandos after their experience in the factory, as well as being married to one of the ladies sleeping upstairs, was by unspoken agreement, invited to stay in the house with them. He was grateful for the chance to be close to Ginny without having to hide their relationship. His rapport with the other men was an easy one, and they spent much of the evening after the women had retired in the abandoned living room, joking and catching up. But he could not help the awareness of the darkened stairway behind him.</p>
<p>At last Gabe rolled his eyes and flung one hand dismissively towards the stairs. "Would you just go sleep with your wife already?" </p>
<p>"Lovesick puppies, the both of you," Pinky said into his tea. </p>
<p>Jack grinned and slapped Pinky on the shoulder as he pushed himself to his feet. “Don’t need to tell me twice. Have a good night, gents.” And in the midst of his friends’ good-natured ribbing, bid a fast retreat up the stairs to his wife.</p>
<p>From an earlier conversation he’d overheard, he knew that Ginny had been given the master bedroom -- offered with a teasing wink from Dawn. Jack appreciated it. Having shared a single cot with his wife on more than one occasion, it would be nice to be able to spend one night with her in a bed they wouldn’t have to be worried about falling off of. </p>
<p>He made his way up the stairs as quietly as he could. Just because he had tacit approval to spend the night in his wife’s bed didn’t mean that he had to advertise it to the whole house. </p>
<p>But it seemed that she was expecting him, for no sooner had he paused in front of the bedroom, then the door opened, and Ginny grabbed him by the jacket and pulled him inside. </p>
<p>★</p>
<p>One by one the other drifted off until Steve and Bucky were the only ones left awake</p>
<p>Bucky couldn't stop looking at the stairs. He knew Steve had noticed. Dawn was so close. A dozen stairs and a flimsy wooden door were the only things separating him from her bed. Well, and a lifetime of social conventions that told him it would be improper for him to climb in with her.</p>
<p>He wanted to though. Not even for sex. Just to hear her heartbeat and feel her warm and soft against him.</p>
<p>A slim figure appeared at the top of the stairs. Bucky perked up. Was it just possible he wasn't the only one who was inexplicably lonely tonight?</p>
<p>The woman leaned down so they could see her clearly. Peggy. Not Dawn. </p>
<p>Bucky sat back. Of course, it wasn't Dawn. His Sunshine was a good girl. Why would she come looking for him in the middle of the night?</p>
<p>Peggy beckoned imperiously with two fingers. Steve chuckled and rocked to his feet. "Duty calls."</p>
<p>Bucky slumped down in his chair. Looked like Dawn would be the only one of the women with a cold bed tonight. It was stupid. She wasn't that much closer than when they were in camp. He slept fine then. So why couldn't he settle now?</p>
<p>Steve stopped at the top of the stairs, his hand in Peggy's. "Hey Buck? Don't let me catch you on the landing. It'll just be embarrassing."</p>
<p><i>Catch you on the landing.</i> That was a weird way to word it. Like Steve expected to run into him on the upper floor. Like he was just waiting for Steve to go to sleep before he slipped into Dawn's room.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. October 8, 1944 - continued</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oh Bucky, what are you up to you naughty boy?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><i>What the hell am I doing?</i> Bucky braced himself against the door frame and knocked. The worst that could happen was she told him to go away. At least he would know he had tried.</p>
<p>He could hear the rustle of fabric from inside, the soft sound of cautious footsteps that paused in front of the door. </p>
<p>“It’s me,” he said quietly.</p>
<p>"Bucky?" The door opened a crack, then wider as she confirmed it was him. “What is it? Is someone coming?”</p>
<p>"Shhh. Nothing like that.” He shook his head. “Thought you might want someone to keep you warm. No hot water bottles out here."</p>
<p>After a moment’s hesitation, Dawn stepped back, letting the bedroom door swing open enough for Bucky to slip inside. She was still in her uniform, not wanting to risk getting undressed in case they had to leave in a hurry. He could see her boots behind her, lined up beside the bed, her helmet left on the bedside table. Her hair was loose, unstyled and tumbling over her collar, the first time he’d ever seen it that way. </p>
<p>Bucky shut the door softly behind him. One hand reaching out to comb through the waterfall her hair. He liked it loose. Her breath caught at his touch. Every limb stilling. That was no good. He never wanted her to be afraid of him. "Don't be scared, Sunshine. I told you I could wait, and I can."</p>
<p>“It’s not like that,” she told him softly. God, how mortifying. She could feel her face burning in the dark. “I just… liked it. I like it when you touch my hair.” It has always been something soft between them, an excuse to touch each other. The way he always tucked the loose tresses behind her ear or buried his hands in it when they kissed. </p>
<p>"Is that so?" Bucky purred. He brought his other hand up, stroking both through her hair with long slow motions. Working out the last tangles of her braid. Massaging her scalp and letting the silky strands flow through his fingers. She had the softest hair he had ever touched.</p>
<p>Dawn stifled a tiny whimper. She wanted him to touch her other places. Wanted those gently reverent hands all over her. But this was not the time and not the place. It was the person. This was it. She was gone for him. She couldn't imagine anyone else in his place right now. All the fairy tale heroes and princes she used to dream about had been replaced in her mind with him. No one else would ever make her feel like this. She was sure of it.</p>
<p>Bucky's eyes snapped to her mouth. Was a guy just supposed to ignore a sound like that? No, ignoring it went against every fibre of his being. He would just have to remember to go slow and keep himself under control.  "I'm going to kiss you now."</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Dawn tangled her fingers in his hair and dragged his mouth to hers. She very much wanted to kiss him. She had been lying in bed thinking about kissing him and wishing he was here.</p>
<p>Bucky lifted her off her feet, wrapping her legs around his waist and carrying her to the bed. Somehow, he managed to keep his mouth on hers the entire way.</p>
<p>She let out a little squeak, as Bucky dropped onto the bed with her straddling his lap. This was very different from perching on his knee or snuggling up next to him.</p>
<p>Bucky was careful not to let his hands roam the way they wanted to, keeping them firmly and respectfully wrapped around her slim waist. He let his mouth have a slightly longer leash, kissing along her jaw and tipping her head back to access her neck, paying her back for the sweet torture of the last time.</p>
<p>Dawn leaned into the kisses. Her hands tightening in his hair, as she clung greedily to him. </p>
<p>Bucky swallowed. This wasn't going as innocently as he had intended. He was a bad bad man for wanting to push it further. He wanted to push it further. Apparently Dawn wasn't the only one who liked having their hair played with. "I'm going to take my shirt off now. Is that okay, doll?"</p>
<p>Dawn fiddled with the topmost button of his shirt. "What if something happens?"</p>
<p>Bucky smirked and popped the button she was toying with. "Then I guess I leave the shirt behind." </p>
<p>His pants were staying on. He was going to be firm on that rule. No matter what the baser parts of his nature were telling him. He shifted Dawn into a more comfortable position in his lap as she moved on to undo the next button. <i>God damn, should have figured out all the rules before I let her undress me</i>. He wasn't getting enough blood to his brain to think clearly anymore.</p>
<p>It seemed to take forever to undo the buttons, her normally dexterous fingers gone suddenly clumsy with the intensity of her need. Her eyes followed each undone button, drawn to every inch of skin revealed as his shirt fell open. Then, with the last button finally freed, she dragged her fingertips hesitantly up over the planes of his chest, revelling in the feel of him under her hands. </p>
<p>A small smile curved her lips as Bucky’s head fell back against the headboard, allowing her to explore as she chose. Gently she drew her fingertips over the small, faded scar that remained from the bullet graze that he got the day they met. Other scars had joined it since then. There was another on his left shoulder, older, earned before he knew her. Tenderly she pressed her lips to it, as if she could kiss away the pain that it had caused him. </p>
<p>A soft moan escaped him and his hands fisted in the loose fabric of her overalls. “You’re killing me, Sunshine.”</p>
<p>“Am I?” She kissed his shoulder again. What an encouraging thought. Testing, she dragged her hand down his chest, scraping lightly with her nails. </p>
<p>He arched up under her hand with a strangled moan. </p>
<p>Dawn brought her lips back to his, kissing him deeply. The words stalled in her throat and it took all the courage in her to say the words she wanted to say. “Touch me, Bucky. Please.”</p>
<p>"Now you really are killing me." Bucky groaned. He linked his fingers through hers, first the left hand then the right. Gently he lifted each hand to his lips and kissed the center of each palm. "Tell me what you want, Sunshine. I can't promise I'll do it, but I promise it will break my heart to say no."</p>
<p>If she loved him before, she loved him infinitely more now. She leaned in to kiss him again. It wasn’t that she didn’t know what she wanted, but the moment he asked the nerves robbed her of her voice entirely. So she pulled one hand slowly from his, bringing it to the top button that fastened her overalls and slipped it through. Then she moved on to the second, and the third, stopping when she reached the drawstring at her waist. </p>
<p>Slowly she broke the kiss, sitting back slightly as she took the hand that she had released and brought it to her shoulder. Then, with his eyes locked with hers, she guided his hand in pushing the overalls off her shoulder, revealing the white camisole beneath. </p>
<p>Bucky was dreaming. That was the only explanation. He pressed his lips to the creamy skin of her shoulder. Gently, reverently, he kissed along her collar bone. </p>
<p>Her arms below the elbow were still in the sleeves over her overalls, trapping them against her sides. That was alright. Dawn wasn’t sure she could move anyway. Bucky’s fingers traced the neckline of her camisole. It was like her blood had been replaced by something fizzy -- soda pop, or maybe champagne. She was definitely drunk on the sensation.</p>
<p>Then he shoved her camisole off her shoulders too. It was less gentle than his other touches, more desperate and forceful. Dawn gasped as the cold air of the room hit her breasts. And again, as the cold was replaced by the searing warmth of Bucky’s hands.</p>
<p>In highschool a boy she had thought she liked had taken her behind the bike shed and stuck his hands up her shirt. That had been an awkward uncomfortable affair as he squeezed and jiggled. This felt like magic. She had slapped the boy when she found out he had told his friends the next day. Turned out she didn’t like him as much as she thought she did. She had known it would be worlds better with Bucky. Everything was.</p>
<p>Bucky pressed his hands into the soft mounds, lifting them and letting them fall a few times before he gave in to the dark voice in his head telling him what to do. He dropped his head, taking one nipple then the other into his mouth and sucking gently. She was perfect all over. </p>
<p>This wasn’t enough. He still wanted more.</p>
<p>“Turn around for me, Sunshine?” Bucky whispered, thumb still circling a perky bud. </p>
<p>“Why?” Dawn breathed. She knew what he meant when he said she was killing him. If Bucky took his hands away now, she might literally die.</p>
<p>“Because I am a very bad man, and I want to make you feel very good.” Bucky growled, kissing her neck again. She was so innocent, so inexperienced, but she responded so perfectly to his touch. Her little gasps and moans. They made him feel like an ancient despoiler. The Vikings invading England. The Huns conquering Rome. Achilles taking Briseis. He loved it.</p>
<p>Nervous, but trusting, Dawn turned around, setting her back against his broad chest. She felt vulnerable like this. Arms still trapped by sleeves and now by the straps of her camisole, her chest exposed to the room instead of to the warmth of Bucky. That feeling evaporated as soon as he touched her again, replaced by pure pleasure.</p>
<p>One hand returned to her breasts. Cupping and fondling them. The other slid over her stomach and inside her overalls. Inside her underwear. Touching her exactly where she ached for him the most.  Dawn moaned and pressed her face into Bucky’s neck.</p>
<p>Bucky bit his lip to stop himself from moaning along with her. It was like she had been specifically designed to drive him crazy. “That’s it, Sunshine. Just relax and let me take care of you.”</p>
<p>No one had ever touched Dawn like this. Even her own fumbling touches in the dark hadn’t felt like this. She didn’t know if it took minutes or years, but Bucky took her to a place she had never been. A place of light, and air, and absolute bliss. </p>
<p>She slumped, boneless, into his arms.</p>
<p>Bucky kissed her forehead and down her nose as he carefully replaced her camisole and the shoulders of her overalls. She had done so beautifully. He didn’t do up the buttons, vague plans to keep a hand inside them as they slept forming in his mind.  He shuffled them down the bed so she was cradled against his side in preparation for that sleep.</p>
<p>Laying down, with her head on his chest, Dawn had a clear view of the hard bulge that had been pressed against her back. Penises were an accepted part of her job. Usually incidental, frequently irritating, parts of life. She had never wanted to touch one the way she did now. This night was full of amazing firsts. Could she make him feel the way he had made her feel? She stroked hesitant fingers over the taught cloth.</p>
<p>Bucky grabbed her wrist, stopping her from more than that tentative touch. “Don’t.”</p>
<p>Dawn blinked at him. He couldn’t be comfortable. “Why not?”</p>
<p>“Because I don’t know what I’ll do if you get your hands on me. Let tonight be about you.” Bucky growled. He cupped her jaw and brought her mouth to his again. “Just kiss me for a while.”</p>
<p>She could definitely manage that. In this moment their lives stretched ahead of them. One night was nothing in the grand scheme of things. They had all the time in the world. Dawn draped herself across his chest and kissed him. </p>
<p>The kisses grew slower. Sloppier and shorter as exhaustion started to pull her under. She felt warm and relaxed. Content in a way she didn’t think she’d been since before the war and possibly not even then. She nestled in against Bucky’s side, his arms tight around her.</p>
<p>Bucky chuckled and kissed the top of her head. Poor worn-out girl. He didn’t think she’d ever gone this far with a man before. If she had they definitely hadn’t taken care of her properly. She had been too surprised by the climax for it not to be a new experience.</p>
<p>His own sleep was a little further off. His body was still reacting to her. <i>Just relax. We’re taking this slow.</i> Telling himself that didn’t help as much as he would have liked. </p>
<p>Sleep did eventually come. Sneaking up on him and catching him unaware. One minute he was watching Dawn sleep. The next he was dreaming about… well, her.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. October 9, 1944</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy Canada Day! 🇨🇦 Hope your day is as good as Dawn's morning.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">October 9, 1944</span>
  </b>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>It was dawn that woke Bucky. Solar dawn, not the woman still wrapped in his arm. The sun landed hard on his face, lancing through torn curtains. He groaned and curled tighter around his girl. It wasn't real. He wasn't ready to wake up and have this end.</p><p>"Morning." Dawn nuzzled his chest. It felt nice. The heat radiating from him. The soft fuzz of hair against her cheek. She could get used to waking up like this. No wonder Ginny was willing to risk the consequences when it was really cold.</p><p>"Shhh." Bucky whispered, shifting her half on top of him. "It's not morning. It's the middle of the night and we have hours before I have to let you go."</p><p>"This is exactly why Ginny calls you Romeo." Dawn teased, kissing his cheek. "Come on. They'll come looking for us soon."</p><p>Bucky grumbled and rolled out of bed.</p><p>Dawn's mouth went dry. She hadn't actually considered what a shirtless Bucky would look like in the full light of day. At least not in the context of standing over her bed. Surely nobody could fault her taking a moment to appreciate the view, nor to wish vehemently that the war was over so she might take better advantage of said view. </p><p>Bucky resisted the urge to lick his lips in response to her hungry stare. Now that was the kind of look that made a guy feel good about himself. And also made him want to climb back on top of her and let her have the taste she so obviously wanted. "Getting out of bed was your idea, Sunshine."</p><p>Dawn pulled her knees up to her chest nervously. She couldn't decide if he was so confident because he was used to waking up next to women, or because waking up next to each other had felt easy and natural. "I've never… I've never done anything like this before."</p><p>"Kinda figured that out." Bucky chuckled, perching himself on the edge of the bed next to her. So his sweet shy girl was still in there with the minx from last night. </p><p>She still looked like the minx, hair sticking up at all angles, clear impressions where his fingers had been. He couldn't let her go running around like that. People would talk. Luckily, he was a good enough big brother to be able to do something about it. "Let me fix your hair."</p><p>Dawn leaned into him as he worked her hair into a neat tight braid down her back. The act didn't answer any of the dozen questions about their future bubbling inside her, but it did soothe her anxieties. Bucky loved her. She could feel it in his touch. Whatever the future held that love would be enough.</p><p>Bucky kissed the nape of her neck, silently promising himself that he would find a way to kiss every inch of her. He'd have to wait though. Today he had to protect her. First her reputation, then her innocence. They would probably run into the refugees they were searching for today. Yesterday had been the easy part of their loop. Today they would encounter the villages, and everything that entailed. "Alright. I'll go down first. You wait five minutes, then follow me. We should be forming up in the yard."</p><p>★</p><p>They found the promised refugees around noon. Not in any of the villages, but huddled in a grove of trees about a mile outside of one.</p><p>Half a dozen families, mostly women and children. All of them looked worse for wear. Skinny and malnourished, with ribs showing worryingly and the kind of dark bruises and hollow eyes Dawn had started to associate with people who had seen too much.</p><p>It was worst with the children. This war has stolen from them most of all. An entire generation robbed of their innocence. They deserved so much better than this. So much better than the fear and the violence that had been part of their lives for the last few years.</p><p>She did her best to comfort them, was as gentle with them as she could be. Reassured them that they were going to be taken somewhere safe, that she and the soldiers with them would do everything they could to protect them. Several of them had minor injuries that she and Ginny patched up with kisses and warm smiles. Thankfully the worst of them was an older girl with a sprained ankle. </p><p>It was a relief to see her giggle as Steve swept her into a piggyback to take the weight off her leg.</p><p>It was a joy to watch all of the Howling Commandos interact with the children. Gabe and Jacques were the standout favorites, with their soft French and broad smiles. A couple of the Canadians, Ginny's Jack included, joined in, singing nursery rhymes and folk songs to make the children laugh. Bucky and the others doled out little bits of candy that they kept stashed in their pockets. That seemed to be the thing that relaxed the parents the most. Feeding their children had been such an anxiety for so long, it had to be a weight off their shoulders to see them eating for pleasure instead of desperation.</p><p>Dawn nominated herself to keep some of the younger ones entertained, distracting them from the long journey with tales of a group of heroic knights, facing down the forces of a many-headed monster. In times like these, children needed heroes more than ever, symbols of hope when the future was so uncertain, heroes to believe in when the world around you was falling apart. So, she mythologized the adventures of the Howling Commandos, throwing in elements of Greek mythology and Arthurian legend, as well as a Lady Knight named Margaret — much to Peggy’s amusement.</p><p>Bucky watched her animated storytelling, his heart warmed at the sight. He'd never seen her with children. She was a natural. He couldn't help wondering how many she wanted, or picturing her holding their child.</p><p>More than once she caught him glancing at her as she continued her tale, and could not help but smile back at him. There was her brave and loyal archer, who always guarded the back of the noble Knight-Captain. It was fun, she thought, to add the fantastic touches to their adventures. They looked like they had walked out of a fairytale -- Steve and her Bucky in particular. So why shouldn’t she romanticize them a bit? The children certainly didn’t seem to mind. And they seemed particularly amused by her descriptions of the other knights --- especially the Knight who was so enamoured by the shining helm he wore that he once faced down a lightning-spitting dragon so that he would not lose it. </p><p>Bucky, recognizing the description of Dugan, chuckled and nodded in his direction so that the young girl he was carrying would catch the reference as well , earning a giggle. Dugan wiggled his mustache at her, always a good sport when it came to that sort of teasing, and always a softy for children.</p><p>★</p><p>The civilians slowed them down, stretching the last leg of their foray out until well after dark. The men all took turns carrying the little ones. None of them weighed what they should, but they still added to the weight of already heavy packs. The adult refugees couldn't move very fast either. They stumbled along, sometimes needing help themselves to stay moving.</p><p>Steve kept two of the oldest children with him the entire march. The twelve-year-old with the sprained ankle in a piggyback, an eight-year-old tucked under his left arm behind his shield.</p><p>Bucky made a point of taking long turns with some of the other older kids. He was in better shape than a lot of the other guys. The extra rations Howling Commandos got combined with his determination to keep up with Steve had kept him in good condition.</p><p>Red Cross volunteers descended on them as soon as they entered the camp. Lanterns in hand, arms full of blankets.</p><p>Dawn was surprised when the blonde and blue missile collided with her. Rosie's arms going around her neck and squeezing her tightly.</p><p>"You two are never allowed to leave me alone again. When they try me for Sally's murder I expect to have co-defendants." Rosie's voice was muffled as she buried her face in Dawn's shoulder.</p><p>"Don't be ridiculous. Ginny would never let us get caught." Dawn said, hugging her back.</p><p>Bucky passed the toddler he was carrying to a waiting volunteer. He wasn't sure how he felt about how much the girls had evidently thought about this murder.</p><p>"Sorry." Rosie blushed and stepped back. Her hands oddly jittery as she straightened the wimple that her vigorous hug had knocked askew. "Just… That was the longest I have been away from you guys in five years and I missed you."</p><p>Dawn pulled Rosie back into a hug. "We missed you too."</p><p>Bucky sidled up to the women, slipping an arm around Dawn's waist. "Trying to make me jealous, doll?"</p><p>Dawn looked up at him, batting her eyes innocently. She wasn't trying, but it was apparently working. "You weren't jealous when Jacques hugged me yesterday."</p><p>"Rosie is cuter than Jacques." Bucky pointed out. Behind him, Jacques made a sound of protest.</p><p>It was true, though. She really was.</p><p>Pinky thought the blonde nurse was pretty too. Bucky could feel him hovering, hoping for an introduction. Bucky patted him on the shoulder but led his girl away without helping. Poor guy was barking up the wrong tree.</p><p>Dawn rubbed her hand over Bucky's broad back as they walked. She liked his blue Commando's jacket. Everything about it felt protective. From the rugged blue cloth to the dense quilting over the front, to the sharp cut of it around his hips. </p><p>Bucky pulled Dawn into a dark alley between two tents as they walked back to her barracks. Camp life didn't have many upsides, but the ability to steal quiet moments like this was one of them. It wasn't a private enough moment to do more than kiss, but that was enough for now.</p><p>"I don't know how I'm going to sleep without you tonight." Bucky whispered, pushing her helmet back so he could work his fingers into her hair. "I love you, Sunshine."</p><p>Dawn wrapped her arms around his neck, dragging his mouth down to hers. "I love you too."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. December 10, 1944- January 10, 1945</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">December 28, 1944</span>
  </b>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>It was snowing in London. Big fat fluffy flakes that blanketed everything, making even the bomb sights and barricades look almost charming. </p><p>They had all spent Christmas in Peggy's London flat. Fifteen of them crammed into two rooms. There were nowhere near enough chairs for everyone. They had perched on every available surface. Dawn had spent most of the night sitting in Bucky's lap in the one armchair. Rosie balanced on the arm next to them. Ginny and Jack mirrored them at one end of the couch with Steve at the other end, Peggy on the arm next to him, when she sat down at all. The other Commandos lounged on the two chairs from Peggy's tiny kitchen table or sprawled on the floor.</p><p>They had laughed and joked. Sung carols, played charades, and told stories about better Christmases. Rosie had shut down every one of Pinky's attempts to flirt, much to everyone else's amusement. Dugan had sweet-talked someone at the canteen and converted the men's meat rations into a roast. There had been potatoes and carrots. Beautiful crusty bread. Enough beer that no one's glass was ever empty. Even a Christmas pudding courtesy of Ginny's mother.</p><p>In four days, Dawn and the other nurses were headed back to the front. The Commandos were probably going to be called out at short notice before that. They were both here today, and Bucky had promised he would take his girl somewhere nice. </p><p>They had moved everything good out of the museums, but they couldn't move the buildings or the parks. The Germans were trying. But the best of them were still standing. Packed in sandbags, windows taped or removed, but there and still impressive. Peggy had talked him through an improvised walking tour. Westminster Bridge, Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, Saint James Park. He might have to wave around his Howling Commando credentials to get through a few checkpoints, but he hoped it would make her smile.</p><p>Dawn clung to Bucky's arm as they picked their way down a street covered in frost and debris. They were both bundled up against the cold, Dawn in her uniform cape over the warm sweater Ginny had given her for Christmas, and a thick fluffy scarf and mitten set in soft grey wool, Bucky with the scarf and gloves Dawn had given him for his birthday poking out of his olive overcoat.</p><p>The Abbey's big bells chimed the hour. The sound in the chill air made Dawn think vividly of Dickens and the classic Christmas stories that always seemed to be set in London. Those Christmases were always so lavish with pageantry and tradition adding glamour to even mundane things like a plate of cookies. Dawn couldn't remember the last time she'd had a cookie, let alone any pageantry that wasn't wrapped up in the military. "Can you believe we've been living like this for five years? Five Christmas with that odious little man casting a pall over everything. I don't know if I can do it for another five."</p><p>Bucky wrapped his hands around her waist, sweeping her up and around to set her on a doorstep, so they were at eye level. He didn't think he could handle another five years either. This was not the time to share that fear with her. They were supposed to be enjoying a romantic day together, not dreading the worst case scenario. "I know it doesn't feel like it, but we are getting there, doll. This time next year we'll be State side."</p><p>Dawn smiled and linked her fingers behind his neck. It was a nice thought. There were just two little problems. She had heard 'the war will be over by Christmas' before, it was an old tune and one she was honestly tired of at this point. And while her sweet Yankee boy lived in New York, even if the war did eventually end she would be going home to Alberta. "I don't live in the States."</p><p>"Thought you might come visit me for Christmas. My ma would like that." Bucky combed his fingers through her hair, shaking free the snow that had settled there. He could pick her up, they could take the train together. He'd always wanted to see the country. It would be so much better with her.</p><p>Dawn blushed, sliding her hands down his chest to fiddled with one of his buttons. "You told your mother about me?"</p><p>Bucky tipped her chin up with one finger. "I always tell my ma about important things."</p><p>He kissed her tenderly. She was the most important thing these days. His little plans for what they would do after they made it through this mess were what kept him going some days.</p><p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">January 10, 1945</span>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <i>Dear Dawn</i>
</p><p>
  <i>In [redacted] at least for a few days. Think they'll redact that? Everyone knows we visit [redacted] regularly. Steve has a photo op with [redacted] and [redacted] tomorrow for God's sake. It will be in the paper before you get this letter.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>[Redacted]</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I've got down time while I'm here. Thought I might see if I can pick up a birthday present for my favorite nurse. Think she would like a new pair of evening gloves? Or should I see if I can get my hands on some perfume? Or do I go practical and get a new hot water bottle?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I worry about you in that tent all winter. I know you're Canadian, and you can handle the cold. But in my mind you belong to the summer. Warm in the sun. Surrounded by flowers and birds.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Speaking of little birds, one told me we might be in the same part of the world just after your birthday. That should be vague enough that they let it through. I can't wait to see you. We'll go for a walk. Find something beautiful to look at. Well, find you something beautiful to look at. I'll be too busy looking at you.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I'll get your present in the mail before that just in case. Things are changing so fast these days. This is the home stretch doll. It won't be long now. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>I miss you so much, Sunshine.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Love,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Your Bucky</i>
</p><p>
  <i>PS. I don't care how good the information is, I am not [redacted] unless Peggy says it is a good idea.</i>
</p><p>★</p><p>Steve picked up the little velvet box sitting on the corner of Bucky's desk. "Is this what I think it is?"</p><p>Bucky laughed and leaned back in his chair. "Nah. They're earrings. Dawn's birthday is in a couple of weeks. I want to surprise her."</p><p>Steve grinned and flipped open the little box. Two yellow gems sparkled at him; each half surrounded by shining gold sun rays on the outside edge. An expensive and specific personal gift from a guy who swore all you needed to win over a dame was a good two-step and whatever flowers you could steal from your neighbour’s garden. Steve had never seen his friend this way over a girl. "But you know what I was thinking."</p><p>"That's got to wait until all this is over. I want her to know I'm asking for her, not because I'm scared of the future." Bucky's heart warmed at the idea. He knew exactly how he was going to do it too. She'd come visit him in New York. He'd introduce her to his parents. They would adore her. His mother was half in love with her already from his letters. </p><p>Then, after dinner, he'd take her down to Prospect Park. They'd watch the sunset behind Manhattan. The world would get that golden glow it did on perfect days.</p><p>He would get down on one knee. </p><p>She'd be so surprised. She'd throw herself into his arms, and he'd kiss her breathless.</p><p>Steve patted Bucky's back knowingly. "We've got great gals, Buck."</p><p>Bucky chuckled. They really did. "When are you going to ask?"</p><p>Steve considered the question weighing the little box in his hand. It was amazing how something so small could be so heavy. How such a short question could be so huge. "Peggy's birthday is in April. Think we can wrap this up before then?"</p><p>"Well not if we sit around here scratching our asses." Bucky shoved away from the desk, ready to get to work if it meant getting closer to the start of the rest of their lives. "Any word?"</p><p>Steve grinned and tossed the earrings back to Bucky. There was nothing in the world that could stop the two of them when they were working together. "Peggy's got something for us. Briefing in the morning."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And then everything was fine and nothing happened.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. January 25, 1945</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>... Everything was not alright. Things happened.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">January 25, 1945</span>
  </b>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>	Bucky had only been in the Swiss Alps for a couple of days and already he couldn’t wait to leave it behind forever. This place was supposed to be picturesque and beautiful. Charming vistas, mountain goats, and people yodelling. This was none of those things.</p><p>Winter in Brooklyn could be bad enough with the frigid wind blowing off the Atlantic, but this? This was so much worse. The sooner they accomplished their mission and could leave this godforsaken wilderness behind for good, the better. </p><p>	The Commandos had set up watch atop a high plateau, with a perfect view of the train tracks winding around the mountain below. Morita and Gabe crouched to the back of the party, fiddling with a stolen transistor radio. The reception out in the snow-covered mountains was dreadful, but at last they got some kind of a signal. Not far away, Jacques and Dugan adjusted a winch at the cliff’s edge. Through some feat of some Stark-sponsored engineering magic, they’d fired a heavy steel cable across the gorge, anchoring it to the far cliff above the tracks.</p><p>	Static crackled over the radio, barely audible over the rushing wind, and a choppy voice croaked out instructions in German.</p><p>	“The engineer just radioed,” Gabe translated. “We were right. Zola’s on the train. Hydra dispatch gave him permission to open the throttle.” He slipped off his headphones, glancing up at the others. “Wherever he’s going, they must need him bad.”</p><p>	“Well, they’re not going to get him,” Morita declared with a determined nod.</p><p>	Steve and Bucky exchanged looks. If they could pull this off, it would be a massive coup for their side. And it would give Steve no end of satisfaction to see the man who tortured his best friend locked up in a cell. </p><p>	“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Falsworth commented, lowering his binoculars. At the others’ questioning glances, he nodded over the edge of the cliff, where a speeding train had just raced into view on the tracks beyond. “Because they’re moving like the devil.”</p><p>	Steve checked his rifle as Bucky glanced over the cliff’s edge at the train. His nerves were jangling like wind chimes in hurricane season. They’d done a number of crazy things since the formation of this team, but he thought that zip-lining across a snowy chasm in the middle of Russia had to be the craziest. He belonged in Bedlam for agreeing to go along with this. </p><p>	“You remember when I made you ride the Cyclone at Coney Island?” Bucky asked suddenly.</p><p>	Steve glanced up at him with a rueful smile. “And I threw up?” It had been a good day other than that. They’d saved up their pocket money for months for that outing and had blown through much of it on corndogs and cotton candy. Most of it unfortunately just before that disastrous Cyclone ride.</p><p>	“This isn’t payback, is it?” Bucky shifted the grip on his rifle. He officially hated Switzerland. </p><p>	Steve laughed, a glint of mischief in his eyes helping to cover his own nerves. “Now why would I do a thing like that?”</p><p>	The shriek of a train whistle cut through the wind, audible ever from their distance.</p><p>Steve, Bucky, and Gabe were silent as they attached their T-bars to the cable. </p><p>Bucky gave his an extra tug, just to be sure it was secure. <i>Deep breaths, Barnes. You can do this. Just a few more little adventures and this nightmare is over. Steve can be with his girl, and you can finally be with yours.</i></p><p>As they readied for the jump, Steve turned to address their small company. “Okay,  We’ve got a ten-second window. Mistime it and you’re a bug on a windshield.” Which only counted as one of his immediate fears about this plan. The cable could snap, the anchor could disengage -- <i>Damn it, no!</i> He had to keep calm. He was the leader. His friends were relying on him. Bucky was relying on him.</p><p>Falsworth chuckled. “Mind the gap.”</p><p>Next to them, Dugan checked the speed of the train against his watch. “Better move it, bugs.”</p><p>The three men tensed, eyes on Jaques, who would cue their launch. Steve took one last steadying breath, and when Jacques dropped his hand, he threw himself off the cliff with Bucky and Gabe following close behind. </p><p>For a tense moment there was nothing but the sting of snow against his cheeks and the shriek of wind in his ears. His hands clutched the T-bar with a white-knuckled grip until even he could feel the strain, and he prayed that his friends would be able to hold on those few more precious seconds until they reached the other side. </p><p>	<i>3 … 2 … 1 … NOW!</i> He released his grip, and for a few breathless seconds he was in freefall. His booted feet hit the train solidly, and he tucked into a roll to absorb the force of his landing. Two more solid thuds told him that Bucky and Gabe had made their landings too. </p><p>	Steve glanced back, just to be sure. To his desperate relief, his friends were crouched on the same car, just a few feet behind him. </p><p>	Cautiously, they pushed themselves to their feet, and the three commandos made their way towards the front of the train. </p><p>	There was a ladder anchored to the side of one of the front most cars. Steve climbed down; Bucky close behind as Gabe kept watch from above. Once they were inside, Bucky closed the door behind them.</p><p>	The inside of the train was more futuristic than anything they had seen before, the interior all black matte and solid metal. They seemed to be in some kind of storage car. Heavy black metal shelving was erected down the centre of the car, each holding  cases of what they assumed must be more of Hydra’s blue beam weapons. A handy score, but not their main target. If they could get to Zola and take command of the train, they could take it all.</p><p>	Steve and Bucky each took a side of the car, weapons at the ready for any sign of movement. The door to the next car was open, the car beyond it empty. The two paused before the doorway. Something was very wrong. This was too easy. Zola was one of Hydra’s top scientists. This train should have been heavily guarded, these empty cars packed with troops. </p><p>	It was too late to turn back now. They’d caught the train. Now they had to see where it would take them.</p><p>	Cautiously, Steve made his way through the covered connection, Bucky a few feet behind, turning to make sure that nobody would take them from behind. But he strayed too far. The two connecting doors of the train cars slammed shut, separating them with two walls of heavy iron.</p><p>	Steve threw himself against the heavy door and watched helplessly through the tiny window as Bucky whirled to face the figure that had entered from the other side.</p><p>	The sound of metallic grinding and the high-pitched whine of a beam canon told Steve that he had company of his own. He whirled to see a heavily-armoured Hydra trooper, armed with a shoulder-mounted rig that held two canons, pointed directly at him.</p><p>	Steve fired with his pistol, then dove behind a stack of crates, shield raised as the trooper shot back.</p><p>★</p><p>	Bucky was outnumbered, two masked troopers firing at him from the other side of the train car. He ducked past the central shelving, firing as they turned to adjust their aim. His first volley took down one of them, and he ducked behind a stack of crates to reload his weapon. </p><p>	Damn it, he knew this had been too easy. Zola had been the perfect bait for a trap. </p><p>	Unfortunately, the death of his companion hadn't deterred the other trooper in the slightest. He fired at Bucky’s hiding place, forcing him to curl up on the floor to avoid getting hit by the ricochet. He had him completely pinned and, using the shelving as cover, made his way to the back of the car towards Bucky.</p><p>	Pinned, terrified, but far from done, Bucky took his shots where he could, popping up to fire at the Hydra trooper whenever he had an opening.</p><p>★</p><p>	Steve was having an equally bad time. He was a decent shot, and had some cover between the crates and his shield, but they could only hold up so long against the canon. The blue beams burst overhead, scorching and warping the metal on the wall behind him. </p><p>	He had to stop this. Experience with the canons had taught him that there was a period of recharge time necessary between each volley. He took his chance, racing out from behind the crates and launching himself at the crane apparatus that was anchored to the ceiling. It carried him like a zip-line across the car, and he had just enough time to raise his shield to deflect the trooper’s next shot before slamming into his chest with heavily booted feet, knocking him to the ground. </p><p>	A blow to the helmet with his shield reassured Steve that this man wouldn’t be getting up any time soon.</p><p>	But he couldn’t stop to rest. Bucky needed him.</p><p>	He crouched down next to the unconscious soldier and manoeuvred the canon so it was aimed at the door of the car. It only took a single shot to blow the thing wide open.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. January 25, 1945 - continued</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The final trooper crept down the length of the train towards where Bucky was hiding.</p><p>	Not wanting to give him any openings, Bucky pressed himself against the far wall, crouching so that he was all but invisible against the dark metal of the train. Waiting for his opening. He only got one shot at this. </p><p>There. </p><p>He threw down his rifle and fired with the small pistol he carried, crossing to the other side of the train until he could duck behind another pile of crates.</p><p>	He hadn’t hit the trooper, but at least he had better cover now. <i>That’s right, Barnes. Look for the silver lining. Not like you’re up shit creek without a paddle or anything.</i></p><p>	Bucky was running out of options. He was in a firefight against a man with a rifle, armed with nothing but a pistol. He quickly counted up shots in his head. And he was rapidly running out of ammo. He had to keep fighting. For Steve. For Dawn. For their friends and everyone back home. </p><p>	As a kid, he used to play Shootout at the OK Corral with the other neighbourhood kids. Had imagined daring wild-west adventures and heroic battles against evil black-hatted men with large curling moustaches. If he’d known then what he knew now, he would have stuck with baseball. </p><p>Bucky took two more shots. Missed again. He was panicking. That was no good. He knew that was no good. Panicking was what got you killed. Thinking about panicking was only making things worse.</p><p>A deep breath and he fired again. One shot missed, ricocheting off his target’s cover. His gun clicked uselessly on the second shot. He was out.</p><p>Bucky swore and pressed back into the cover of the boxes. He had counted wrong. He was out of bullets. Pinned down. Alone. <i>Damn it all. I’m not going to die here</i>. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to get his breathing back under control. </p><p>He opened his eyes again. He just had to think. That was all if he could think he could – something moved in the window of the door.</p><p>Steve. That idiot had found a way back to him. </p><p>Steve hit the button for the door with his elbow keeping himself out of line of sight from the far end of the car. He’d watched Bucky’s last shots through the window. Seen the desperation cross his face when he discovered his clip was empty. </p><p>Steve held up his own gun in offering. Bucky was a better shot and they both knew it.</p><p>Bucky nodded, reading the plan in Steve’s gesture. Now that he wasn’t on his own, things didn’t seem quite so daunting.</p><p>He snagged the gun out of air when Steve tossed it to him. Turning and firing in one smooth motion.</p><p>Steve moved almost before the metal touched Bucky’s hand charging in, shield up. He growled and shoved a long crate down the shelves and into the guy that had them pinned down.</p><p>The falling crate made the Hydra soldier break cover.</p><p>Bucky's shot caught him between the eyes. Those masks weren’t good for much more than looking scary.</p><p>He lowered the gun and stepped up next to Steve. Just like old times. Except Steve was the one saving his bacon these days. “I had him on the ropes.”</p><p>“I know you did.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>Something whirred behind them.</p><p>Panic flashed through Steve. The guy with the cannon. He wasn’t down. </p><p>“Look out.” Steve grabbed Bucky’s arm and shoved him towards the far end of the train. Bringing his shield up at the same time.</p><p>The blast caught him at an awkward angle. Sending him and his shield flying in opposite directions and ripping open the side of the car.</p><p>Steve sprawled helpless on the floor; wind completely knocked out of him as the gunner lined up another shot.</p><p>“Fire again. Kill him now.”</p><p>The voice that echoed through the overhead speakers chilled Bucky to the bone more deeply than anything else they had encountered this mission. He lunged for the fallen shield. He needed to keep them both alive until he could. He braced himself determinedly behind the circle, firing two shots to draw attention to himself.  </p><p>The blast that was meant for Steve caught Bucky squarely in the shield. He flew backwards, shield sailing off his arm.  His back hit the corner of the peeled back wall, sliding along it and out into open space.</p><p>
  <i>Bucky—</i>
</p><p>Steve pushed himself to his feet. His hand came in contact with his shield and he hurled it at the still recharging cannon, not pausing to see what damage it did. As long as it distracted the man long enough for him to get to Bucky he didn’t care. </p><p>He wrenched off his helmet, tossing it aside as he threw himself towards the ragged gap where he had last seen his friend. Where his friend still had to be. Despite the speeding train and swirling wind there was no way he could have lost Bucky like this. Not to a stray shot meant for him.</p><p>“Bucky!” He was there, clinging desperately to a torn rail over the precipice. “Hang on!”</p><p>Steve wedged his feet into a narrow gap in the metal, edging towards Bucky. He came to the end of his foot and hand holds—and he was still too far from Bucky. He stretched out as far as he could. “Grab my hand!” <i>Please Bucky. Please just grab my hand. Everything will be alright. Just grab my hand.</i></p><p>Bucky reached. The rail bent under the stress of Bucky moving. Bucky grabbed it with both hands again, gasping. <i>Get to Steve. Nothing else matters right now. Just get to Steve.</i></p><p>He reached again. The rail groaned.</p><p>“No.” Steve refused to believe that anything bad was going to happen right now. Any second now Bucky would grab his hand. He would swing them back into the train. They would finish this damn mission, go home to the girls, get married, settle down in neighbouring houses in Sugar Hill.</p><p>Bucky stretched as far as he could. Fingertips almost brushing Steve’s glove. </p><p>The rail snapped. Fell away from the train car.</p><p>And so, did Steve’s world.</p><p>Bucky’s scream echoed in Steve’s ears long after the wind should have carried it away.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm not crying. You're crying.</p><p>Neither of us likes watching bad things happen to our sweet Bucky boy, or the rest of our lovelies for that mater, so going forward there will be two options. The next chapter on this story will continue with the canonical story, and all the delicious heartbreak that entails. We will also be posting the first chapter of a fix it fic featuring significantly less heartbreak and significantly more adorable fluff.</p><p>Personally, I would recommend reading both, but I will admit to being more than a little biased on the subject. Both are going up on Wednesday. Hope to see and hear from you then.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. January 26, 1945</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">January 26, 1945</span>
  </b>
</p><p>“No.” Dawn’s hands shook uncontrollably. She had heard Peggy speak, but the words didn’t make any sense.</p><p>Ginny caught Dawn as her knees gave out. </p><p>Dawn let Ginny lower her onto the edge of a cot. “He can’t be. It’s some sort of mistake. He'll be back. He always comes back. He came back last time." </p><p>“I’m so sorry, lovely.” Peggy sank to her knees in front of Dawn. Cupping her hands softly. “I thought it would be easier to hear it from a friend.”</p><p>Rosie wrapped her arms around Dawn, cuddling her close.</p><p>Dawn turned her head into Rosie’s neck, the tears breaking through. Bucky. Her Bucky. He couldn't be gone...</p><p>“I have to go.” Peggy whispered, touching Ginny’s elbow and leading her a few steps away so they wouldn’t disturb Dawn’s sorrow. “I have to find Steve. The others don’t know where he is. He just walked off when they landed. He's not taking it well…”</p><p>“Go. We've got her.” Ginny assured Peggy, with a gentle squeeze of the shoulder. Losing Bucky was a blow for all of them. But the sorrow she and his other friends felt was nothing compared to what Dawn and Steve had to be feeling right now. Dawn had her friends. Steve would need someone too.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">January 26, 1945</span>
  </b>
</p><p>The wind plucked at a scrap of paper, lifting it off the red-stained snow. It tumbled erratically over the surface, following a set of drag marks along the valley floor.</p><p>It drifted to a stop face up in a pool of blood, the sticky red liquid slowly drowning the carefully written words.</p><p>
  <i>Dear Bucky,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I love you.</i>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. February 9, 2013</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">February 9, 2013</span>
  </b>
</p>
<p>	It was raining in Washington DC, an icy kind of drizzle that was not unexpected at this time of year. It was hardly a time for tourists. Most of them waited for spring, for the weather to warm and the cherry blossoms to bloom in the trees. </p>
<p>	But the weather could not win out against sentiment. And after seventy years, a woman deserved to be sentimental. </p>
<p>	It did earn her some strange looks in the airport terminal, a ninety-some-year-old woman with a small rolling suitcase, flying on her own. But when asked she’d smile at them, and tell them she was visiting an old friend. </p>
<p>	This was a trip long overdue. The Smithsonian exhibit had been open for months, but it had taken time to make the arrangements. The early flight had been something of a challenge, but the advantage of being as old as she was, was that she slept through most of it. </p>
<p>	The cab ride from the airport to her hotel was uneventful, the check-in equally so. Her room, while nicely appointed, was unremarkable. Once the bellhop had deposited her small suitcase upon the folding riser, he passed her a small envelope containing her key cards, and left her to her own devices.</p>
<p>	Alone at last, Dawn sat down on the bed. Things were so much more difficult as you got older. One would never look at her and see the young woman who had flown across the world, who had trekked across France in the company of legends. Her brown hair had gone white with age, and the hands that had been so sure now ached when it rained. </p>
<p>	She smiled down at them, shaking her head briefly. What a life she had lived. She only wished he’d gotten to live it with her.</p>
<p>	After a few moments’ rest, Dawn pushed herself to her feet again, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror above the dresser, eyes drawn to the wink of the sunbeam earrings she wore. She touched them gently, reassured by their familiar presence. </p>
<p>	A quick call down to the concierge desk arranged a cab to pick her up. After depositing the key cards in her small purse, she slung the bag over her arm and left the room.</p>
<p>★</p>
<p>	The Smithsonian Museum was the kind of place Dawn had always wanted to go. She had never tired of being surrounded by history, the stories of a thousand lifetimes. Now, seeing the banners dangling from the ceiling with the familiar face upon them, was like walking straight into her past. She could almost hear the mortar blasts, the laughter of old friends, smell the strong scent of coffee cooked over the camp stove. </p>
<p>	It was funny, being surrounded by all these memories of an old friend. This was a Steve she had heard about but never gotten to know -- the small, sickly boy from Brooklyn who could never walk away from a fight. It was hard to reconcile the tall, muscular man she knew with the skinny man in the photographs that surrounded her, but there in his eyes -- that same heartfelt determination. </p>
<p>	Trailing behind a tour group, she made her way through Steve’s time at basic and his brief career as a performer. </p>
<p>	Then she turned into the next room and stopped dead in her tracks, her heart giving a painful lurch. She’d known what was coming, but nothing could have prepared her for coming face-to-face with the etched-glass memorial to Bucky Barnes. </p>
<p>	She approached it slowly, stopping just in front to trail delicate fingers over the beloved face. Seventy years gone, and she still missed his smile every bit as much as the day she’d lost him. Missed his laughter, the twinkle in his eyes, the sound of his voice. </p>
<p>	Dawn continued through the exhibit, taking in the artifacts that the museum had collected. There was one of Steve’s sketchbooks, open to a page depicting a cartoon monkey on a tightrope. And there, Dugan’s infamous bowler hat, acquired with great reluctance from its owner, with promises to return it in perfect condition once the exhibit had concluded. </p>
<p>	She made her way to the far wall where five mannequins stood before a flag-draped background, one for each of Steve’s Howling Commandos, bedecked in their original combat gear. </p>
<p>	She knew the etiquette, knew that she needed to keep her hands to herself, but in that moment it took all the restraint she had not to reach out, to feel that familiar blue jacket under her fingertips one last time. A distant romantic part of her mind wondered if it would still smell like wood smoke, the way it used to when she had buried her face in its owner’s chest.</p>
<p>	She needed a moment to sit down, to recollect herself. There was an alcove in the next room, lit by a flickering projector screen. Dawn slid inside and lowered herself carefully onto the bench that curved around the back wall. And found herself looking right into his face.</p>
<p>	The projector was playing footage of the Howling Commandos on a loop, complete with interviews of each. But all she could see was Bucky. Bucky laughing with Steve, his arm slung around his best friend’s shoulder. Bucky joking with Jacques and Morita during one of their stints in London. Bucky and the rest of the Commandos in the back of a jeep, en route to another base. </p>
<p>	It was too much, all of it just too much. But she couldn’t look away. Could only sit and watch the videos play over and over, tears streaming down her cheeks, and remember the love she had lost.</p>
<p>	<i>“The other night, dear<br/>
As I lay sleeping<br/>
I dreamed I held you in my arms<br/>
But when I woke, dear<br/>
I was mistaken<br/>
So I hung my head and I cried.<br/>
You are my Sunshine<br/>
My only Sunshine<br/>
You make me happy when skies are grey<br/>
You’ll never know, dear<br/>
How much I love you.<br/>
Please don’t take my Sunshine away.”</i></p>
<p>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Last Chapter in this ending. Hope you guys enjoyed it. Don't forget to check out the alternate happy ending <i>New Day</i>.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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